


Second glances

by Julieseven



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Balloon Squad, Boy Squad, F/F, F/M, Girl Squad - Freeform, Hate to Love, Mega Squad, Mostly Fluff, Tiny bit of Angst, Yousef messes up, muslim girl struggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julieseven/pseuds/Julieseven
Summary: Sana is a physical therapist and Yousef a dancer who busts his knee and has to go to therapy at Sana’s hospital. She wants to hate him because he hurt her brother and his friends by leaving them behind when he was discovered as a dancer. But when Sana is assigned to treat Yousef, they have no choice but to try and get along ...





	1. Prologue: A split second that changes everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the SKAM BIG BANG! I always thought Yousef and Sana were one of the most underrated ships, and after writing an entire season from Sana's POV, I figured I should do an AU for her as well .. So here we are, I hope you like it!!
> 
> I have a few people to thank:
> 
> First of all, my wonderful artist and friend Ivana (https://ivnana.tumblr.com/ and https://www.instagram.com/serkiart/?hl=en). She made no less than four amazing drawings for this fic, and I am so super-excited about all of them! She's incredibly talented and the sweetest person ever!! Volim te, Dusa!
> 
> My main beta Fee @starfishunicorntea! You are so amazing and wonderfully patient with me! I almost gave up on this story a few times but you kept inspiring and encouraging me to go on! Thank you so so much for everything you do for me, and for being the most enthusiastic and sweet commenter ever! 
> 
> My latest and also very dedicated beta Lily @theusuallygoodstudent! Lily, you're a rockstar! You gave me so many tipps from a muslim point of view, and I am very very happy that you told me what certain scenes made you feel so I knew exactly if they were right or not! You're an invaluable help for my writing, and an even better friend!! Jazakallah Khair, habibti!! 
> 
> My constant cheerleader and amazing grammar beta Mackenzie @EvensDramaticShenanigans (honestly, that girl doesn't miss a single comma!!). Mack, I don't deserve you, you're too great! Thanks so so much for all your help and support!!
> 
> Sarah @my-doctor-is-sherlock, my wonderful new friend and colleague who kept encouraging and challenging me! I wouldn't have finished this fic in time without you, thank you so so much!
> 
> My very dear friend Sabrina @whenitisreal who looked over several versions of this fic including the outline, supporting me with valuable tipps and feedback! Merci beaucoup ma belle!
> 
> Nadège @wehave4ever who also looked at several versions of my outline and first draft! Your love and support mean everything to me !
> 
> And last but not least, my last minute Sunday afternoon beta Rachel Hitchens! Thank you so much for seeing continuity errors I would have totally missed!! 
> 
> And of course, I gotta thank Julia @Jules1398 for organising all this! I can't imagine how much work it was and I am really grateful for the platform you gave us as writers and artists to work together and showcase our work! I love you so much!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> Veritas: A Norwegian dance group Yousef is a part of

**_Monday March 2nd, 2026_ **

 

**_Yousef_ **

 

_It happens during the last minutes of your second performance in downtown Tokyo. You’ve just jumped up from a back handspring and are about to turn on the spot together with Mahdi and Unnar, when you feel a searing pain shoot through your left knee._

 

_You can’t even think about keeping a straight face. The pain makes your head spin and the second you hit the ground you know it’s over. Of course you can’t be sure what exactly you just tore or broke, but something tells you that it will end your career._

 

_The boys stop dancing instantly and gather around you, asking worried questions and helping you up. Somehow, you manage to tell them your left knee hurts, prompting Mahdi and Unnar to lift you up by your shoulders to help you hobble off-stage while Edwin pushes a speaker out of the way._

 

_As your friends carry you to your dressing room, you hear the band you were performing with - some new-comer Hip Hop crew from Tokyo - talking to the audience in Japanese, most likely coming up with some excuse for why their dancers have just collectively disappeared._

 

_This gig is a part of your world tour, where you perform with local Hip Hop crews and rappers all over the world. It’s Boris’s idea of a promo tour, and it has been working well: After only five performances - one in Paris, two in London, one in Moscow and one in Tokyo - he already got three requests from well-known Hip Hop artists from the states and Europe who wanted to work with “Veritas.”_

 

 

_Which is why you can’t really blame Boris for being angry when he comes running into the dressing room, where the boys have just gingerly placed you on one of the couches._

 

_“What the fuck happened?” he demands to know, glowering at all four of you in turn._

 

_“Yousef fell, that’s what happened,” Mahdi says pointedly, and you have to suppress a grin. Unnar and Edwin call Mahdi “Pappa” sometimes, and in moments like these it’s not hard to see why. Mahdi is very protective of the three of you, particularly when Boris is being unreasonable._

 

_“Why?” Boris asks, walking up to the couch you’re lying on, waving his index finger at you. “I thought you knew every move by heart, why would you suddenly fall?”_

 

_“I’m sorry, Boris,” you croak, trying to sit up but wincing with pain when your knee hits the back of the couch. “I think I slipped and twisted my knee.”_

 

_Boris rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. “Oh okay, that’s not too bad. That means you can dance again in two days? That Hip Hop Festival in Sydney is really important for us.”_

 

_Mahdi clears his throat and crosses his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head. “Boris, I don’t think Yousef should even think about dancing again before seeing a doctor,” he says slowly, fixating your manager with an incredulous look. “You can’t expect him to dance if he’s seriously injured.”_

 

_Rolling his eyes again, Boris sits down on the armchair facing the couch and buries his face in his hands with a deep sigh. When he looks up again, his expression shows more disappointment than concern._

 

_“Boys, I think I told you that you have to give this world tour your everything. If we let something as minor as a tiny injury disrupt our schedule, it could mess with your entire careers. Who is going to take us seriously if we don’t stick to the agreements we made with our business partners?”_

 

_Unnar and Edwin just stare blankly at your manager, but Mahdi’s face is contorted into an angry grimace. “You’re not going to guilt Yousef into dancing with an injured knee, Boris. At the very least, you will take him to a hospital and have a doctor check him out, you owe him that.”_

 

_After almost half an hour of arguing with Mahdi, Boris finally agrees to drive you to the nearest hospital. You wait for almost two hours until a doctor is ready to see you. But it takes him all of five minutes to find out your cruciate ligament is torn and that there is no way you can dance again before it heals._

 

_“Fuck, see, this is why I didn’t want …” Boris curses while the doctor carefully wraps a brace around your injured knee. Your manager starts pacing in the middle of the doctor’s office, throwing you an angry glare when you get up and take a pair of crutches form the doctor._

 

_“Thank you,” you tell the doctor, who is obviously confused about why Boris is so angry. Your manager doesn’t bother speaking English, rambling away in Swedish while glowering at all four of you, as if you had planned this._

_  
_ _But Mahdi interrupts him. “Boris, just … shut up. You heard the doctor. Yousef needs surgery, that means he won’t be dancing any time soon. As our manager, you should do everything you can to make sure he recovers well, what is fucking wrong with you?”_

 

_Boris and the boys argue on the entire way back to the hotel, but since the doctor gave you some painkillers before you left the hospital, you’re feeling so drowsy you don’t really hear what the rest of the group is talking about._

 

_On the next morning, you wake up feeling rested but still a bit out of it. Mahdi, Edwin, and Unnar are all sitting at the foot of your bed, watching you with worry in their eyes._

 

_“What’s up, boys?” you ask them, frowning slightly._

 

_Mahdi grins awkwardly, patting your uninjured leg. “We’re going home, man. Get dressed and pack your stuff, our plane leaves in six hours.”_

 

_“Oh?” You sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. “Does Boris agree with that plan?”_

 

_“Fuck Boris,” Mahdi spits and gets to his feet. “Don’t worry about him, alright?”_

 

_You look over at Edwin and Unnar, who just shrug simultaneously with awkward smiles. “He’ll follow when he … finishes talking to the people from Sydney, I guess,” Unnar says slowly, not sounding very convincing._

 

_But you’re too drowsy from the pain meds and your uneasy sleep to question anything, so you do as Mahdi asked._

 

 _Six hours later, you’re sitting on a plane to Oslo, wondering what the hell is going to happen next. The more you think about it, the more it scares you to go home. Of course, Oslo_ is _home, it’s where you grew up and lived for most of your life. But when you left six years ago, you thought it would be forever._

 

_And now you’re going back, with an injured knee, a guilty conscience and a broken dream._

 

_If that’s not a recipe for disaster, you don’t know what is._


	2. Chapter One: An unwelcome surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend comes back to town and Sana doesn't care at all ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> Ankylosing spondylitis: long term inflammation of the joints of the spine
> 
> Musakka: Turkish eggplant and ground beef casserole

**Sana**

 

**_Tuesday, March 26th 2026_ **

 

You finally reach your locker after what seems like an endless day. The last patient of the day suffers from ankylosing spondylitis, and treating her is always both physically and mentally exhausting.

 

Cracking your neck, you open your locker and pull your scrubs over your head with a deep sigh. Thankfully, all you have to do now is go home and hope Noora has made enough dinner for all three of you. Eva can’t cook to save her life and you’re not much better, so the two of you mostly rely on Noora’s skills or eat take-out whenever she’s not around.

 

Stopping for a moment in front of the mirror at the sink, you scowl at your tired reflection and adjust your hijab. You look like shit, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Moments later, you leave the locker room and head towards the exit, struggling to keep your eyes open. That’s why you almost bump into Isak in the hallway.

 

“Wow, easy there, Sanasol,” he says with a chuckle, holding on to your shoulders for a moment to make sure you’re not falling over.

 

“Sorry,” you mumble and step back to look at your friend. Isak looks just as tired you: his dark blonde curls are stuck to his head, drenched in sweat, and you can tell he has been up for much longer than you. “When did you get here?” you ask, frowning at him.

 

“Uh, at five in the morning, I think,” Isak says hesitantly and leads the way down the hall to avoid looking into your eyes.

 

Shaking your head, you follow him and touch his lower arm. “Isak, you shouldn’t work such long shifts, you know it’s not healthy,” you start, but Isak turns around to put both his hands up in front of himself, palms facing you.

 

“Sana, I know, okay? I just …” He sighs and takes his hands down to give you an exasperated look. “Even wants to go on a trip this weekend and I promised him I’d take three days off.” He grins happily, and not for the first time you catch yourself wondering how those two can still be so much in love that the mere thought of going away with Even makes Isak grin like a little child. “By working a little longer today and tomorrow, I can take Friday off, so …” he adds, but you put up a hand, letting him know you get it.

 

“Alright, you’re excused,” you say with a grin and follow Isak out of the main entrance, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

 

“Thanks, boss,” Isak chuckles and digs his phone out of his pocket - it’s ringing. “Why is Eva calling me?” he wonders with a frown on his face. You frown back and are about to say you have no idea when he picks up. “Hello?”

 

You get your phone out of the side pocket of your bag and instantly know why Eva is calling Isak: your screen shows no less than three missed calls from her. And sure enough, a moment later you hear Isak chuckle and he waits for you to catch up to him. “Sure, she’s right here,” he says and then hands you his phone.

 

With a deep sigh you take it from his hand and clear your throat. “What is it, Eva? Did you drop the milk carton again? Should I buy some more on my way home?”

 

Eva gasps with faked outrage. “What? No! Why would you think that?” But before you can answer, she goes on. “That’s not why I’m calling. Do you want to guess who just came back to Oslo?”

 

Rolling your eyes at Isak, you start walking towards the bus stop. Isak falls into step next to you, a smug grin on his face. “I just got off work, Eva, I am not in the mood for guessing games,” you tell your roommate and are about to add that she should tell you when you get home.

  
“It’s Yousef,” Eva blurts out, giggling like a little child and before you can so much as breathe in, she babbles on. “He had his knee surgery last week and today he gave an interview saying he will go to the University Hospital of Oslo for rehabilitation.”

 

You roll your eyes at Isak - who just sat down on the bench at the bus stop, before clearing your throat. “Great, that means one of my colleagues will have to treat him, so what?”

 

Eva groans and you sit down next to Isak, pursing your lips, bracing yourself for her reply. “Sana, do you realise what this means? Yousef is one of the best street dancers of Norway now - or at least he was before he busted his knee.” She giggles again, making you wish you were home already so you could glare at her to shut her up. “Imagine what that could do for your reputation!”

 

“Eva, physical therapists don’t get a better reputation just because they treat a famous person, what the heck?” You follow Isak into the bus that just arrived, chewing your lip before you add: “We just do our job, that’s it. And if we do it right, we keep our jobs, if we don’t, we risk losing them, it’s as simple as that.”

 

You can almost see Eva throw up her free hand in a dismissive gesture as she sighs into the phone. “Fine, pretend you don’t care, I know you’re lying.” She hesitates for a  moment. “I still think you had a crush on him before he left.”

 

“Eva, we’ll talk when I get home, alright?” you say in a warning tone. The last thing you want is for Isak to tell Even that Yousef is back in town. The fight with him was hard on all five boys, but since he and Yousef were best friends, it took Even the longest to recover. You’re not going to be responsible for making him go through that again.

 

“Okay, see you soon,” Eva says and you hang up without another word, handing Isak’s phone back to him.

 

“Sorry about that,” you tell him, trying to smile. Isak just shrugs and grins back, watching you curiously.

 

“No problem. What is Eva so excited about?” He doesn’t look at you while asking the question, but you can tell he’s far more curious than he wants you to know.

 

You clear your throat, making Isak look up at you. “Some celebrity is coming to our hospital for rehabilitation, and Eva thinks I’m going to treat him,” you say, knowing that your words to Eva gave all that away anyway.

 

“I heard as much,” Isak says, frowning at you. “I guess you don’t want to tell me who it is?” He’s always been way too perceptive for your taste, but as much as you wish you could hate him for it, you’re also grateful. You never have to lie to him, and still he never demands you tell him something if you don’t want to. That fact is the foundation of your friendship. It began when the two of you became biology partners in seventh grade. At first you didn’t like each other, but ever since you defended Isak against homophobic idiots who bullied him for dating Even, the two of you have been inseparable.

 

“No, it’s kind of … complicated?” you tell him, making a face. “I know the guy, sort of, that’s why Eva is so excited.” Letting out a huffed laugh, you add: “She’s probably already practising pick-up lines as we speak.”

 

Isak chuckles quietly and presses the stop button on the pole next to him. “She isn’t that bad, Sana. Eva would never date a friend of yours without asking for your permission.”

 

“He’s not my friend,” you say too fast, too forcefully, but Isak is nice enough to pretend he didn’t notice.

 

“Alright, look. This is your business, and unless you want me to, I won’t stick my nose in it.” He puts up both hands and winks at you, making you grin gratefully.

 

“Thanks, Isak.” You briefly touch his lower arm and then the bus doors open. Isak steps out and turns around, pointing his finger at you. “We’re expecting you guys for dinner on Friday, don’t forget! Even is making Musakka.”

 

“We’ll be there,” you call back, waving at him. “Tell Even I said hello.”

 

The bus doors close in your face but you catch Isak giving you a thumbs up before walking away.

 

Taking a deep breath you close your eyes for a moment, trying not to think about the conversation you’re going to have with Eva later. You’re not sure if you should pretend that you don't care about Yousef coming back or tell her the truth: that you would love to tear him apart for hurting your brother and his friends. Until Yousef left with just a day's notice, you had never seen Elias cry, and just thinking about it still breaks your heart.

 

Of course, Isak would advise you to tell the truth because he knows you’re the worst liar in the world - apart from him maybe - and you hate lying anyway.

 

Maybe you’ll get away with just telling her you don’t want to talk about a guy you haven’t seen in six years. Although, knowing Eva, she won’t just drop the subject either way.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

**_Thursday, 28th March 2026_ **

 

Two days later, you’re sitting in Even and Isak’s kitchen, feeling full and happy after devouring two plates full of Even’s delicious Musakka. Next to you, Eva groans happily and reaches across the table to take Even’s hand in hers.

 

“Even, when are you finally going to open your own restaurant? Your food is nothing short of spectacular,” she gushes, winking at him.

 

Isak clears his throat and eyes Eva and Even’s linked hands suspiciously, making her pull her hand back. “He’s becoming a famous director, he won’t have time.”

 

Even chuckles quietly and takes Isak’s hand in his, kissing his boyfriend’s knuckles. “Thank you, Eva. I’m glad you like my cooking.” He bows his head in Eva’s direction and then turns to you.

 

“More Musakka for you, Sana?” he asks cheerfully, raising both eyebrows and reaching for the plate in front of you.

 

Slowly shaking your head, you pat your stomach gingerly. “No thanks, Even, I will throw up if I eat another bite.” With a sideways look at Eva, you add: “ Eva’s right though. It was delicious, as always.”

 

“Thank you,” Even says, getting to his feet and picking up his and Isak’s plate. “So, tell us what’s new? Any interesting new patients at the hospital?”

 

You’re grateful that Even has just turned his  back to you, stacking all four used plates in the dishwasher. Isak frowns in response to your panicked glare, reminding you that Isak doesn’t know the celebrity patient’s name yet. Eva however just rolls her eyes, but thankfully doesn’t say anything.

 

“Uh, nothing exciting, no,” you reply, clearing your throat and trying to smile confidently when Even turns back around. By the frown on his face you can tell he’s not convinced though.

 

”That’s good,” he says nonetheless, and you’re about to ask Isak if he has anything interesting to tell although you know he doesn’t when Eva clears her throat.

 

“So, am I the only one who finds it interesting that Yousef is coming back to Oslo for rehabilitation?!”

 

Even and Isak turn to look at each other and you can see from Even’s expression that he already knew. And when Isak turns around with pursed lips, throwing you an apologetic look, you know Yousef’s return isn’t news to him either.

 

Of course, Eva notices that too. “What, you already knew?” She looks a bit disappointed, but also intrigued.

 

Sitting back down next to Isak, Even nods slowly and smiles at Eva. “Yes, we knew, Eva. We have a TV you know.” He’s trying to sound casual, but you can tell that he doesn’t want to talk about Yousef any more than you do.

 

“It’s not like there was anything else on TV yesterday anyway, so why are you surprised?” you snap at Eva, glowering at her a little too angrily, making her sigh and roll her eyes.

 

“Fine, I’m sorry for thinking it’s a big deal that a former friend of ours is coming back to Oslo after six years,” she groans, running a hand through her long hair.

 

Isak and Even exchange a look and then Isak turns to you with a half-hearted smile on his face.

 

“So that’s why you didn’t want to tell me who it is,” he says slowly, taking Even’s hand in his.

 

Nodding darkly, you cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to look indifferent. “He just abandoned us six years ago, so I hardly think he is still our friend,” you say a bit too harshly, making Eva stare at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why he just … bailed,” she says quietly, and the sad look in her eyes makes your heart hurt. Eva has always been too emotional for her own good, but that’s one of the reasons you love her so much.

 

“I always thought he was honest. But then he left a note in our letterbox instead of admitting to our faces that quick fame is more important to him than his life-long friends,” you insist, however pulling Eva into a one-armed hug. “No matter what else was going on, that was a really shitty move in my opinion.”

 

Even and Isak nod in agreement, but while Isak’s dark look matches how you feel about the matter, Even’s eyes are full of doubt and old pain. You hate that look, because it reminds you that no matter how much it hurt you that Yousef just left while you were working a summer job in Finland, it hurt Even a lot more. He and Yousef were best friends, and they used to share everything. And although Yousef never told anyone about his plans, Even still blames himself for not noticing what his best friend was up to.

 

So before he can say as much, you lean forward and wait for Even to look up at you. “It wasn’t your fault, Even. Yousef was going to go to Sweden anyway,” you say as softly as possible.

 

Both Eva and Isak nod at that with somber looks on their faces. Even purses his lips and leans his head on Isak’s shoulder, sighing deeply as his boyfriend’s arms envelop him in a comforting embrace.

 

Pressing a kiss into Even’s hair, Isak looks up at Eva with a small smile. “So, Eva …,” he says, clearing his throat. Even lifts his head when he hears the teasing tone of his boyfriend’s voice, evidently relieved that he’s no longer at the center of attention.

 

“What, Isak?” Eva asks, frowning at him.

 

Letting out a short giggle, Isak rests his arm on Even’s shoulder and then looks into Eva’s eyes. “Do you want to tell us why you spaced out more than once during dinner? You were hardly a part of our conversation about Even’s new movie project.”

 

Even sits up straighter and winks at Eva, who sucks in a sharp breath and blushes a dark red. “Yeah, that was quite rude. The least you can do to make it up to us is tell us who you were thinking about,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

 

Clearing her throat, Eva sits up a little straighter. You flash Isak a grateful smile before linking your arm with Eva’s, making her turn to look at you. “Alright, so … I met someone last weekend,” she blurts out, giggling shortly.

 

No one says anything, all three of you waiting for Eva to go on. With a deep sigh, Eva leans back in her chair. “I was at that Spring Festival in Drammen with one of my dance classes, “ she begins, a slow smile curling her lips. “And since my students are all only seven or eight years old and were wearing those cute flower costumes, they were at the center of attention backstage.”

 

Eva’s expression shows a hint of pride and you know why: She designed the costumes herself, with the help of some of the students’ mothers. Even Noora helped sometimes when Eva almost threw her sewing machine out of the window, frustrated over yet another flower that wouldn’t let itself be sewn on properly.

 

“Anyway, the kids got really excited and I had a hard time keeping them in check, and just before I was about to have a nervous breakdown, a blonde bombshell with a flower crown on her head came up to us. She introduced herself as Vilde to my students and asked them to practice their dance only in their head again so they would be ready, giving me a full minute to breathe. And in that minute, we talked for a bit.”

 

Eva pauses, pursing her lips, and Isak sits up a little straighter with a frown. “So, you just … talked?” he asks hesitantly.

 

“Yeah, what else Isak?” Eva sighs, raising her eyebrows at him. “I had a bag of fleas to watch and lead on stage, and Vilde … she technically, she didn’t even have time to talk at all.”

 

“But you got her number, right?” asked Even, his face lit up with a hopeful expression you remember all too well from the first few times he told you he liked Isak.

 

“No, Even, there was no time.” Even groans as if Eva had hit him in the stomach, making you and Isak giggle slightly, but Eva goes on. “She just wished me good luck and said ‘you’re just as cute as your students, if not cuter’ in English and walked off … I was … too shocked to do anything.”

 

“Well, if she worked at that event, you should be able to find her, no? Do you know what her job was?” you ask, gently squeezing Eva’s upper arm.

 

Eva sighs again. “She told my students that she was there to ‘make sure everything goes well,’ but I have no idea what her actual job is. I don’t even have a last name.” She leans her head on your shoulder as you wrap an arm around her. “I’ll never see her again, I think.”

 

“Oh no, don’t say that,” Even says and reaches out to pat Eva’s shoulder. “You always meet twice in life, you know.”

 

Smiling weakly, Eva lets go of you and sits up straighter again. “That’s nice of you, Even, but I think Vilde is a bit out of my league anyway. Plus, I have been dating guys for years now, I think my girl game is dead …”

 

Isak clears his throat and blushes slightly, looking at his own hands. “Uhm, that doesn’t mean you don’t have a shot … I mean, look at me.” He takes Even’s hand in his and looks up at his boyfriend with an awestruck expression, as if he still can’t believe his luck.

 

Even coos and leans in to kiss Isak on the lips. “You have more game than you think,” he whispers to him, making Isak blush a dark red.

 

“Ugh, you two are going to make me puke one day,” Eva says, trying to sound indignant. But her bright smile betrays her. “After eight years one would think you would be over the honeymoon phase, but nooo.”

 

Even blows Eva a kiss and moves his chair closer to Isak to put both arms around him. Isak leans into his boyfriend’s embrace, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pouting at Eva.

 

“You’re just jealous,” he grumbles, making you, Eva and Even laugh. Isak may be turning twenty-seven in less than two months, but he still pouts like a teenager whenever someone teases him and Even.

 

You’d be annoyed at him for it, if he and Even weren’t so freaking adorable.

 

“Anyway, what are you going to do if Yousef is assigned to you, Sanasol?” Isak asks out of the blue. You have no doubt that he’s just trying to direct the conversation away from himself, but you still glower at him.

 

“He won’t be assigned to me. My colleague Sabrina has experience with cruciate tendon tears, she’s the logical choice,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

 

“Okay, but ... what if he still talks to you?” Eva chimes in, apparently relieved that her love life is no longer the subject of the conversation. “You might still run into him once he starts training in the gym?”

 

Taking a deep breath, you turn to face your roommate. “I’ll be perfectly nice to him of course, Eva,” you say with a fake smile, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes at her.

 

Isak and Even laugh at that, and then Even gets to his feet, announcing that he hopes the three of you still have room in your stomachs for dessert.

 

About an hour later, you and Eva are waiting for the tram home outside of Isak and Even’s building. As usual after a night of talking and laughing with the boys, there is a comfortable silence between the two of you, filled with the happy afterglow of the evening you’ve had.

 

But then Eva puts her arm around your shoulders with a deep sigh that tells you she has something on her mind. And because the two of you have been like sisters for over ten years, you know what she’s about to ask before the first word leaves her mouth.

 

“Are you going to try and make Yousef pay for what he did to Even?”

 

Eva’s voice sounds dark and almost a little broken, but it still makes you smile. Both you and Eva have been fiercely protective of Even ever since Isak started dating him.

 

Nodding slowly, you look up at her with a mischievous grin.

 

“Of course.”

___________________________________________________________________

 

**_Monday, 20th April 2026_ **

 

Your promise to Eva was sincere, but it’s much harder to keep than it was to make.

 

First of all you can’t really kick a patient’s ass without risking to lose your job, particularly if the patient isn’t even yours: As you expected, Yousef was assigned to Sabrina. And second of all, your past self had no way of knowing what would happen three and a half weeks after that dinner at Isak and Even’s place.

 

Today, you had difficulty getting out of bed although you slept enough. You should have known that was a sign.

 

By the time you reach the gym, your first patient is already waiting for you. “Mondays, eh?” Markus asks, winking at you with a lopsided grin, letting you know you look as unmotivated as you feel. Markus had a car accident three months ago and is in treatment to get the mobility of his forearm back.

 

Rolling your eyes at him, you smile back and take a deep breath. “Are you ready? Today we’re going to see if you can put some weight on your arm.”

 

Markus makes a face but nods hesitantly. You’re about to ask him to follow you to the back of the gym, when you hear an all-too familiar voice behind you.

 

“Sana? Is that you?”

 

Freezing dead in your tracks, you don’t move an inch and barely manage to not close your eyes - Markus is watching you, after all. Very slowly, you turn around and there he is: Yousef Acar, even taller than you remember, with a mix of curiosity and fear on his face, which almost makes you forget why you’ve been angry with him for six long years. He’s wearing grey sweatpants - with a big blue and grey brace strapped to his left knee - and a black T-shirt and when he smiles, you almost smile back.

 

_Six years and it still takes him all of two seconds to make you melt, you weak-ass idiot._

 

“Yousef,” you say, hating how croaky your voice sounds and step forward just as he stands still in front of you, holding out his hand. Without thinking, you shake it briefly and then let go as if his fingers were searing hot. “What are you doing here?” you ask, hoping that your voice doesn’t give away that you very well know the answer to that question.

 

Yousef’s smile grows a bit bigger and he blinks a few times before clearing his throat. “Uh, I busted my knee and had surgery last month.” He points to his left knee with a shrug. “Either the stage in Tokyo was a bit slippery or I’m losing my edge,” he adds after a beat, chuckling mirthlessly, his expression suddenly a bit darker.

 

“I bet it’s the latter,” you say coldly, making Yousef’s smile falter entirely. Guilt pools in your stomach, but luckily, just when Yousef is about to reply, someone clears their throat.

 

“I hate to interrupt, but I have an appointment with my neurologist at ten o'clock,” Markus says, sounding mortified.

 

Whirling around, you stare at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yes, of course! Sorry, Markus.” You clear your throat and walk ahead of your patient to the back of the gym without looking back.

 

“I guess I’ll ... see you around,” Yousef calls after you, but you don’t react.

 

After you’ve dismissed Markus and are heading to the cafeteria for a snack your mind wanders back to Yousef before you can stop yourself.

 

Sure, you swore to yourself weeks ago that you would only ever look at him with disdain. But the moment he walked into that gym, looking more handsome than ever and with the same soft smile you always loved so much … you completely forgot why you ever hated him. At least for a moment.

 

And that is pretty fucking terrifying.


	3. Chapter Two: Cold stares and painful memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yousef's past is catching up with him.

 

**Yousef**

 

**_Wednesday 22nd April 2026_ **

 

It’s not that you didn’t expect Sana to be angry with you. She has always been straight-forward and shockingly honest, that was one of the things you really liked about her.

 

But the cold, hateful look she had in her eyes when you saw her again for the first time in six years made your insides turn to ice.

 

Right now, you’re sitting on a bench at the wall of the hospital’s gym, waiting for your physical therapist. Even two days after running into her right here, you still can’t forget the shiver that ran down your spine when Sana’s eyes met yours. You could kick yourself for thinking it would be best to talk to her before trying to make up with the boys. What the hell gave you that idea? Sana Bakkoush will never just forgive you for what you now know was the biggest mistake of your life. Because as much as she and Elias always pretended to despise each other in front of you, they’ve been incredibly protective of one another all their lives.

 

Mahdi warned you about something like this. He doesn’t know your old friends, but you told him that you left them behind when he asked why you were so nervous to go back Oslo on the plane.

 

_“Are you worried about Boris?” Mahdi asked, pursing his lips with a guilty look on his face. “Because you don’t have to be. We ditched him last night, when he wouldn’t stop talking about getting you back on tour as soon as you’ve had your surgery.”_

 

_You stared at Mahdi, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “What do you mean you ditched him?”_

 

_Shrugging slightly, Mahdi took a deep breath before answering. “We told him if he won’t let you get the proper treatment you need, we will all leave. And when he said he didn’t care, that you were the only one who really mattered anyway … well that just made it easier.”_

 

_“So … wait … you quit? You all quit? Just because of me?” you turned your head to peek at Unnar and Edwin, who were sitting behind you and Mahdi. They both nodded quickly, making your stomach drop. “You gave up your careers because of me? Are you crazy?”_

 

_Mahdi shushed you, putting a hand on your arm. “Hey, just because we gave up one shitty job doesn’t mean we won’t get others,” he chuckled, and Unnar and Edwin both nodded at that, smiling warmly at you._

_  
_ _“Boris has always been an asshole, but until last night, he was a decent manager,” Unnar explained in his deep, soothing voice. “But putting his financial gain over your health made him a useless piece of shit, so we wouldn’t want to work with him anyway.”_

 

_Swallowing hard, you tried to smile at your fellow dancers, who had become so much more in the few years you’ve been working together. “Thanks, guys,” you managed to croak out. “This … it means a lot.”_

 

_A few days after you landed in Oslo, you had surgery at the University hospital and after half a week, you were allowed to go home. You decided to move back in with your parents, although they still lived in Uranienborg, so it was very likely that you would run into your old friends in the streets eventually … Still, you can’t really afford your own place, so you don’t have a choice. And Mamma and Pappa were both very glad to have you back, both of them wiping their faces a lot when they welcomed you at the door of their new house._

 

_You gave only one interview after the surgery, announcing that you would be staying in Oslo for the time being until you recovered. The reporters all wanted to know if Veritas had disbanded and if you were ever going to dance again. But you just said that for now, you wanted to focus on getting better and that your colleagues had your back._

 

“Earth to Yousef, are you with me?”

 

Sabrina’s voice wakes you up from your trance, and you have to shake your head and blink a few times until her face comes into focus.

 

“Uh, yeah, I’m here, sorry,” you mumble, trying to smile at her. “I’m just … a bit tired.”

 

Your physical therapist nods slowly, pursing her lips. “Alright, are you ready then?”

 

Letting out a short laugh, you nod and get to your feet. “Yes, I’m ready.”

 

Sabrina is nice and easy-going, a fact you couldn’t be more grateful for. She knows who you are, but she doesn’t treat you differently than her other patients- at least as far as you can tell.

 

While Sabrina prepares the leg press for you, debating how much weight your knee can deal with, you try to push all thoughts of Sana and your old friends out of your mind. _That’s a problem for another day,_ you tell yourself, although you know it’s a lie.

 

No matter how important it is to you to recover and be able to dance again, you’re even more determined to make up with your old friends. You have no idea if they’ll ever forgive you, but you know you have to try. Although you don’t believe in God, you do believe that everything happens for a reason. And if there’s anything good about busting your knee and having to come back here, it’s that it gives you a chance to make amends.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**_Thursday 11th June 2026_ **

 

You’ve always thought of physical therapy as something relaxing. But after seven weeks of trying to follow Sabrina’s instructions you’re ready to curse your former self for ever thinking such a thing. How could you so grossly underestimate how _fucking exhausting_ recovering from a knee injury is?

 

To make everything worse, Sabrina fell down during a hiking trip last weekend and broke her ankle. She can’t work for at least half a year, and her replacement is no one other than Sana Bakkoush.

 

After that first encounter in the gym a month and a half ago, you have only seen Sana from afar. But every time her eyes met yours, she gave you a cold stare that sent shivers down your spine, making you wonder why you didn’t go to Sweden for treatment instead of coming here.

 

However, since she has been forced to treat you- she is the only other therapist specialised in sports injuries apart from Sabrina- Sana hasn’t been as unforgiving as you expected her to be. You are still at the receiving end of many cold stares, but sometimes Sana’s lips curve into a tiny, approving smile when she notices that you’re following her instructions perfectly.

 

Right now, you’re sitting on a leg press machine, watching Sana load two weights of ten kilograms each behind the plate your feet are resting on. Once she’s done making sure the weights are secured, she takes a step back and eyes you suspiciously.

 

“You have to hold your back up straight,” she says coldly, setting her arms akimbo with a stern expression on her face.

 

Letting out a long breath, you nod, biting back a retort, and then try to push the weights upward. At first, there’s a slight sting in your knee, but it subsides after a second and you’re incredibly relieved when you manage to stretch your legs without a problem.

 

“Don’t stretch your legs all the way, that could hurt,” Sana warns, just in time for you to stop pushing. “Good, that’s not half bad.”

 

You can’t see her face but by the tone of her voice you can tell she’s smiling. “You mean I’m not completely useless today?” you ask and carefully bend your knees again.

 

Sana lets out a huffed laugh. “No, you’re not completely useless today,” she agrees and then steps into view, raising her eyebrows at you. “How many times can you do that? Remember to stop the second you feel any pain.”

 

Nodding slowly, you purse your lips and try to give her a confident grin. “Let’s see, shall we?”

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**_Friday 12th June 2026_ **

 

“What do you mean she’s kicking your ass, man? Isn’t she your physical therapist?”

 

Mahdi stares at you with a mix of confusion and intrigue. You huff out a laugh and open the door for him. He called you last night, asking if you want to grab a cup of coffee at the Kaffebrenneriet near the hospital after your therapy session today. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off at home a few days after your surgery, and it feels good to catch up.

 

Over two cups of coffee, Mahdi told you that Unnar and Edwin are looking for new jobs with different dance crews, and you can’t blame them. It’s been two months, and you can’t expect them to wait for you to recover. They need to eat, and it’s not like working with Boris made the four of you rich. Mahdi himself has been helping out as an assistant teacher at a small dance studio in the city, and from what you heard he seems to really love his new job. That’s good to know: you would never forgive yourself if coming back to Oslo with you would have ruined Mahdi’s life as much as it ruined yours.

 

You’re aware that Mahdi knows you’re worried you’re never going to dance again, but so far he hasn’t said anything. Instead, he’s questioning you about your replacement therapist, about whom you have just complained to him.

 

“She is, but … she’s also my former best friend’s sister, and I think she’s taking revenge,” you say, making Mahdi choke on his protein bar.

 

“Hold up, WHAT?” he exclaims, making a passer-by stare at the two of you.

 

You shush him and grab his arm, dragging Mahdi with you a few strides before letting go and glowering at him. “Shut up, it’s not that bad,” you hiss, but Mahdi merely rolls his eyes.

 

“Fine, tell me how it is then? What reason does she have to take revenge anyway?”

 

“Let’s go to my place, I am not having this discussion in public,” you grumble, making Mahdi scowl again.

 

“I promised Mamma I’d drop by for dinner today, but I guess I have time for one beer.” He grins cheekily at you, making you laugh.

 

“I always have a couple of Tuborgs hidden under my bed, you know that,” you mutter under your breath, making Mahdi grin even broader.

 

“Awesome. You are useful sometimes, Acar,” he teases, lightly shoving your upper arm with his elbow.

 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, but can’t stop a smile from tugging at your lips.

 

The bus arrives, and twenty minutes later, you’re finally at your place. Your parents are both still at work, so you have the house to yourselves.

 

Mahdi drops his bag in the hallway and toes off his shoes, and when he’s halfway down the hall to your living room, he turns around, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Help yourself, you know where they are,” you call over to him before he can ask, and bend down to take off your shoes. Toeing them off hurts ever since your surgery and you try to not think about what that means. When you straighten up, Mahdi’s standing in front of you with a concerned frown on his face. “How is your knee, man?”

 

“Much better,” you say as brightly as possible, smiling at him. Mahdi doesn’t look convinced, but before he can ask any more probing questions, you link your arm with his and lead him to the living room. “Come on, you wanted to know why my physical therapist is determined to make my life a living hell.”

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**_Tuesday 23rd June 2026_ **

 

The sessions with Sana get easier after a while. At first you think it’s just because your knee is starting to get better. But one morning, you notice that Sana doesn’t smile just at her colleagues when she walks into the gym.

 

“Morning,” she says with a hint of kindness in her voice, and it takes you a moment to realise she means you.

 

Staring blankly at her, you blink a few times, making Sana stifle a laugh. “Are you talking to me?” you finally ask, and your therapist rolls her eyes.

 

“Yes, I’m talking to you,” she confirms, pursing her lips.

 

You get to your feet and stretch out your hand to her. “Good morning to you too,” you say as Sana takes your hand and shakes it. She does that every morning, but today she looks into your eyes with a gentle smile. And for the first time since Sana started treating you, the shiver running down your spine isn’t a cold one.

 

The two of you start getting along much better from that day on. Sana asks how you’re doing, meaning more than just your knee and you try to do the same, although you carefully avoid mentioning her brother. You’re too worried about upsetting her and the last thing you need is for Sana to be really pissed at you.

 

And then, one Tuesday afternoon, everything changes.

 

It’s Sana’s day off, so you don’t have a session. And since your knee has been feeling a lot better lately, you decide to go for a walk in the city. On your way through Sofienbergparken, you suddenly hear a peel of laughter that sounds so familiar it makes you look up.

 

Sana is standing about a hundred metres away on the grass amongst a group of Girls, one of which you recognise as Sana's lifelong friend Eva. Sana is holding a ball with one hand while pointing to a blonde woman wearing red lipstick with the other, both of them bending over with laughter. She looks different than usual: At work, Sana always wears a simple black jumpsuit with an equally black hijab and white and black sneakers. But today, she’s wearing wide light-green pants and a white t-shirt over a dark green long-sleeved one, complimented by a brightly purple hijab.

 

For a long moment, you just stare at your physical therapist, hardly noticing that your heart is suddenly beating faster.

 

You watch as Sana balances the ball on her outstretched palm and then hits it with her other hand - a perfect volleyball serve, you notice, almost feeling compelled to clap.

 

Sana’s blonde friend passes the ball to Eva, who stumbles backwards as she hits the ball with flat palms, sending it flying in the direction of Sana’s head. Sana catches it easily and glowers at Eva for a moment before all three women burst out laughing again.

 

You always liked Sana’s laugh, but right now, it sounds like the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Of course you could try and blame it on the fact that Sana hasn’t laughed once since she started treating you, but that would be a lie. Watching her play volleyball with her friends, looking blissfully happy - it makes your heart swell in a way you didn’t expect. You wish you could hug her and tell her you’re sorry for leaving, that you never meant to just bail on her brother like that. Closing your eyes for a second at the thought, you shake your head to get rid of it.

 

Elias would kill you twice if he knew how you were thinking about his sister.

 

Still, a part of you wishes you could just walk over there and say hello. But you know that’s not a good idea. Sana may be nicer to you at work, but you can’t expect her to hold back her anger in front of her friends, during her free time.

 

Only when you turn a corner at the other end of the park after glancing at Sana and her friends for one last time do you realise you’re almost panting. Leaning at the wall of a building you’ve just walked past, you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath.

 

And before you can stop them, images from your past flood your brain. Sana playing basketball on her own, asking you to join her. Your hands brushing hers whenever you unsuccessfully tried to take the ball from her. And the warm look in her eyes whenever you told her she was the fiercest woman you’ve ever met….

 

 _Well damn it_ , you think to yourself. As if you need another thing from your past to haunt you … But it’s no use. Opening your eyes again, you push yourself off the wall and turn around to look at your reflection in a window. Your eyes are wide open and your cheeks are flushed, making you look like a damn love-struck teenager.

 

“Fuck,” you murmur quietly, almost laughing at yourself. You would have thought six years of not seeing her would do the trick. But very evidently, you still aren’t over the huge crush you had on Sana for almost two years before you left.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**Tuesday, 2nd July 2026**

 

Working with Sana gets a bit more awkward after you’ve stared at her for almost five minutes without her knowing, and you have to admit to yourself that your crush on her is everything but dead.

 

However, you manage to keep a straight face and not look into her eyes for longer than you should. Sana is still nice to you, so you’re confident she doesn’t know what is going on in your heart and head. It is going to have to stay that way.

 

But then, on the first Tuesday in July, it all goes to shit.

 

You’re early for your session today, sitting outside the hospital on a bench. Just when you’re about to put in your earplugs to listen to some music, your phone rings. With a deep sigh, you dig it out of your pocket and frown at the screen. It’s Mahdi.

 

Still frowning, you swipe to accept the call and put the phone to your ear. “Hey man, what’s up?”

 

“Yo, do you know a girl named Eva?” Mahdi asks without a greeting, his tone hushed and urgent.

 

“No, I don’t, why?” you ask, taking off your snapback and putting it down on the bench next to you.

 

“Well, you know I got a job as an instructor’s assistant at your old dance school, right? So, the studio I teach in was double-booked today. It wasn’t just reserved for our class but also for Eva’s -she’s one of the instructors,” Mahdi explains and you decide not to reply, hoping he will get to the point quick. Your session with Sana starts in ten minutes and you don’t want to keep her waiting.

 

“I was about to tell our students we would call off today’s lesson, when Eva said I could have the studio since her students had a performance on the weekend and deserved a break anyway.”

 

Mahdi hesitates for a moment before he goes on. “I thanked her, saying I’m really glad cause Markus - the instructor I work for - doesn’t like when plans change, blablabla. Eva said she’s glad to help out because apparently, ‘Veritas’ once gave her new energy when she was feeling demotivated and almost quit dance school a year before graduation!”

 

You groan, realising that Mahdi’s story is apparently going to be longer than you hoped. “So what?” you say impatiently, making Mahdi chuckle.

 

“I’m getting there, mate, hold on. Eva was at that workshop you and I did in Stockholm a few years back, you know the one where we taught our latest moves to dancers from all over Scandinavia? Eva basically holds us responsible for her getting her mojo back for her final year. So yeah, she was happy to help.”

 

“Mahdi, you talk too much, get to the point,” you growl into your phone, tapping your right foot. “What does that have to do with me?”

 

“You’re so rude, Acar, honestly,” Mahdi chastises, but then clears his throat and goes on. “I thanked her again and then Eva told me that she could use the time to prepare dinner for her roommate, who has been stressed out because she’s treating this - and I quote: ‘cocky idiot with wanna-be Elvis hair’.”

 

He laughs, but you just stare at your shoes, feeling all the colour draining from your face. With another chuckle, Mahdi then goes on. “She didn’t say it, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knows it’s you. Of course, I then asked what her roommate does for a living, and Eva told me she’s a physical therapist at the University hospital, and that her name is Sana Bakkoush!”

 

You’re not sure why, but you suddenly feel angry. Who does Sana think she is? Just because you had a fight with her brother, she doesn’t get to go around calling you a cocky idiot?

 

Checking your watch, you realise you’re already a minute late for your session. You get to your feet and clear your throat. “Uh, that sounds very interesting, man, and I’m sure you hit it off with Eva and everything, but I gotta go to therapy now,” you tell him, hanging up before Mahdi can reply.

 

You run into the changing room, trying to calm down. There is no rational explanation for your anger, but you can’t seem to get it under control. It hurts to think that although you’ve been nothing but polite to Sana, she apparently goes and talks shit about you behind your back - in spite of putting up a nice front.

 

By the time you walk into the gym, you’re even angrier than when you hung up on Mahdi. Sana’s waiting for you, tapping her foot and looking terrifying with her arms crossed in front of her chest and an irritated expression on her face. Usually, the sight of her being mad at you would scare you, but today it just pushes you over the edge.

 

“Who do you think you are, Sana?” you charge at her, spitting the words out so loudly it makes her jump. She blinks a few times and then sets her arms akimbo, still glaring at you.

 

“I’m not the one who’s five minutes late,” she hisses, but you just shake your head and cross your arms in front of your chest as well.

 

“I’m talking about you trash-talking me behind my back.” Your voice is cracking with anger, and you’re very glad that no one is in the gym besides you and Sana. “I just got a call from Mahdi who ran into your roommate at the studio where she works, and apparently, you complain to her about the ‘cocky idiot with wanna-be Elvis-hair’ you are treating? I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and you just … what did I ever do to you?” You throw up both hands in the air and turn away from Sana, closing your eyes for a moment to try and calm yourself down.

 

“I know I fucked things up with Elias and the boys,” you add quietly, eyes still closed. “But I never did anything to you personally, so why can’t you just do your job and keep your thoughts about me to yourself? I don’t need a press scandal, the buzz about my injury is bad enough.”

 

Your words are followed by a deafening silence. If you didn’t hear Sana’s heavy breathing you would be tempted to think she walked out of the gym before you were done talking.

 

But then, just as you’re gathering your courage to look up, two hands close painfully around your upper arms and your eyes fly open to meet Sana’s. She’s glaring at you again, but there’s a trace of something else in her expression. “You think you never hurt ME? Seriously, Yousef? Do you honestly think I didn’t care when you just disappeared? We all thought your manager just abducted you and forced a contract on you or something!” She lets go of you, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment, and you suddenly have trouble breathing.

 

“I was just as worried as the boys. Believe it or not, you were part of our family, and in spite of the fact that you never so much as looked at me long enough to see it, I actually _liked_ you!” Sana’s voice breaks and you could swear her eyes are glistening with tears, but before you can think of something to say, she goes on. “So don’t come in here five minutes late for our session and claim that just because I sometimes let off some steam after work in my own home - not anywhere the press can hear me, mind you - I am about to cause a press scandal for you. You’re not that famous anyway, and even if you were … who the fuck cares if your stupid physical therapist hates you, huh?”

 

And with that, Sana storms out of the gym, leaving you standing there with your head spinning. You sit down on one of the benches after a while, closing your eyes and burying your face in your palms.

 

There are a thousand thoughts racing through your brain, yet you somehow manage to make your  way to the changing room. You change into your street clothes again and walk out of the hospital as if in trance.

 

With no particular goal in mind, you wander the streets all afternoon, buying a kebab somewhere in Grønland when you get hungry. And as much as you try to fight them off, the events that made you leave Oslo start playing in front of your inner eye like a movie the second you sit down on a bench to eat.

 

_“Yousef, this is a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity,” Boris said for what felt like the hundredth time that day. And although you knew he was right, it still felt wrong to just up and leave._

 

_“I know, Boris. But I don’t want to leave my boys. They’re like my brothers, you know?” you told the talent scout who had just watched you, Mikael and Mutta tear up the dance floor at the goodbye party for your dance instructor._

 

_Irma had led the studio for almost twenty years and was now retiring to focus on writing - her other great passion next to dance. You were all going to miss her, but her niece Andrea was going to be a worthy replacement as manager of the Oslo Streetdance studio._

 

_“I get that, Yousef, I do,” Boris said with an exasperated expression that told you he really didn’t get it at all. “But Mikael and Mutta are useless as dancers, you’ll never get anywhere with them. And if you come to Stockholm with me, I can make you famous within months. You’ll finally be able to make a living by doing what you love. Isn’t that what you want?”_

 

_You asked Boris to give you a day to think about it, but although you hated yourself for it, your mind was made up by the time you got home. Dancing was everything to you, and Boris was the most successful dance coach in Scandinavia. Irma had invited him for your sake - they were old friends from back when they were both still dancing themselves as contemporary dancers at the Olso Nye Teatret. And yes, of course you were grateful to her, and of course you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing what you love for a living, as Boris put it._

 

_But even as you signed the contract obligating you to dance with “Veritas” for the next five years without being able to quit, the queasy feeling in your stomach hadn’t gone away. You told Elias you were going to Stockholm to have a look at Boris’s dance school and that you would be back in two days, feeling like a horrible coward._

 

_The next day, Boris introduced you to the rest of the group. He had found them by going to every performance of contemporary dance groups in Norway, Sweden and Denmark for two years in a row._

 

_Unnar was twenty-one years old at the time and was one of the best break-dancers you had ever seen. He had made a name for himself with youtube videos that showed him performing spectacular moves in unusual places. In the beginning, he gave you a hard time, mostly because he probably felt like you were going to steal his thunder. But that changed after you offered to practice his solo moves with him a few times._

 

_Edwin was only nineteen and full of energy. Boris had found him at the back of a hip-hop crew from Bergen, where he was known as the “skinny kid who can jump unusually high.” His coach only used him for spectacular finales because he was so tiny any of the other dancers could throw him up in the air without any trouble. However, Boris saw his potential as a “locker”, and so Edwin became known for just that. However, within the group, you still called him “skinny kid”, although it was more a term of endearment than an insult._

 

_As much as you liked Unnar and Edwin though, Mahdi was your only true friend in the group. From day one, he made you feel at ease with his no-bullshit attitude and his relaxed laughs. “Just chill, man,” were his most frequently used words, and that mindset showed in his dancing. No matter how hard a move was, Mahdi always managed to make it look effortless and awesome._

 

_But although you loved your new life and enjoyed the fact that you got to dance every day, you never stopped feeling terrible for leaving your brothers behind._

 

You shake your head and look up. The clock of the church on the other side of the street tells you it’s already past seven o’clock. You have finished your kebab without even realising it, and when you get up to toss the napkin and fork into a bin, you come up with the idea to take a walk along the fjord.

 

The Oslo harbour is always beautiful, particularly on warm summer evenings like this one. But today, you can’t really appreciate it. You walk along the pier and then uptown, all the way to the royal castle, where you sit at the foot of a statue for what feels like hours.

 

Wanting to avoid the evening crowds, you walk through Vigeland park and then almost all the way back to the hospital, until you finally get too tired. Catching a subway at the Blindern station, you think you might just go buy a bottle of coke at the station before going home.

 

A few minutes later, the subway train pulls up to the stop at the National Theatre, and while you stare out the window, a very particular poster catches your eye.

 

It announces a certain “MC Ezzari” performing at a nearby club …. tonight. Ezzari is Adam’s last name, and he has used it as his stage name ever since he started getting hired for gigs.

 

Almost automatically, you get up and take a leap to get off the train before the doors close. Landing on the platform, you cry out in pain: You’re not supposed to jump, and you realise exactly why when a searing pain shoots through your knee, almost causing you to collapse.

 

Sana will be so mad if she notices your knee hurts tomorrow ...

 

That thought makes you straighten up with a start. Will you even see Sana tomorrow, after the disaster you caused today? Very gingerly, you set your foot down on the ground, careful not to put too much weight on your busted knee. Thankfully, the pain subsides after a few moments, giving you hope that maybe, your therapist might not notice that you did something stupid.

 

Well, technically, you already did something very stupid by lashing out at Sana like that. You can’t even remember why you got so angry at her, which makes you feel even dumber.

 

Finally, you take a few tentative steps, realising with relief that your knee isn’t giving out. You clear your throat and make your way up the stairs and out of the station. It’s not far to the club where Adam is performing, so you decide to walk there.

 

The LAWO club is not usually known for giving Hip Hop performers a platform, but you guess that Elias was able to pull some strings. As a producer, he has connections and you know that some of the Norwegian artists you performed with before your world tour are his clients. In spite of being terrified of what would happen if one of your old friends saw you walk into that club, you just have to see Adam perform. You always believed in him, and it makes you happy to know that his hard work is finally paying off.

 

What makes you even happier when you arrive outside the club is seeing that it’s packed with people. You can hear Adam’s voice spitting rhymes, and almost in spite of yourself, you smile happily when you recognise the song. It’s ‘good intentions’, the song he wrote together with the singer-songwriter Sonja, who’s also from Oslo. When they announced their collaboration, a lot of people frowned and you remember even Boris commenting on it over breakfast one morning. “That can’t go well,” he had remarked, sounding condescending, and it made you wish even harder that the song would succeed.

 

It became an international hit, and although you knew you could never congratulate Adam, you were insanely proud and happy for him.

 

Now, you feel mostly nervous, carefully pushing through the crowd without drawing attention to yourself. Adam is rapping the last verse of the song while one of his background singers sings Sonja’s parts, and the crowd is going wild.

 

You try to spot the other boys, but the club is too dark. So you just move in time with the beat with the rest of the crowd, enjoying Adam’s music.

 

At the end of the song, Adam addresses the crowd, thanking them for their enthusiasm and saying that evenings like this were his favourite kind of gig.

 

“Just making music for people from Oslo in Oslo, with my friends and the people I consider family, that’s what I’m all about,” he says, and you can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s close to happy tears. “But I have a few people in particular to thank.”

 

You stare at your old friend, who luckily can’t see you in the midst of the crowd. Of course he’s not going to mention you, but you can’t help but hope to see the others. You don’t think you could gather the courage to talk to them, but you’ve missed them for so long …

 

“I want to thank my parents, who aren’t here today because they hear me practising at home all the time and never complain, although I must be killing them sometimes. Thank you for believing in me,” Adam says, making the crowd laugh.

 

“And of course, my brothers from other mothers, who for some reason haven’t given up on me yet although I can be a complete mess sometimes. They’re my bosses, my supporters, but most of all my friends, and I wouldn’t be who I am without them.” Adam bends down at the centre of the stage, looking at four boys in the first row with a fond expression.

 

Looking closer, you instantly recognise Mikael and Mutta’s shoulder-long hair, Elias’s buzzcut, and Even’s blond mess. They’re all cheering and laughing with Adam, but then Adam clears his throat. “You all rock, boys,” he says and gets to his feet again, pointing towards one of the four boys.

 

“This next song is for you, Mikk.” Adam seems to blush slightly, although you’re not sure if it’s just the light. “I love you, man,” he then adds, making the crowd erupt in cheers again.

 

You’ve known Adam all your life, and he was never shy about his affection for his friends. But the look on his face when he dedicates the next song to Mikael is different than any other look you’ve ever seen him give anyone.

 

However, you don’t want to think about that right now. You feel tears well up behind your eyes, and before you burst into sobs, you make your way out of the club, hurrying back to the subway station. It has begun to rain, but you hardly notice.

 

Once you reach the station, the memories of the good times with your boys start rushing through your head like a storm.

 

_The six of you had been inseparable ever since you met in kindergarten. You did everything together, from homework to playing pranks on your parents and siblings. Most of the time, you spent long afternoons at the Bakkoush household, sitting on one of the couches, filming youtube videos and planning your future._

 

_When you graduated from Bakka, you started putting a detailed plan into action: You wanted to become famous as the Youtube crew “FNG - Friendly neighbourhood gangsters,” recording videos about various topics. Sometimes, you would discuss certain issues amongst yourselves or interview someone, or you would film challenges. And of course, you would show off your individual talents: Mikael drew, Even shot short films or drew together with Mikael, Adam rapped and Mutta and Elias pulled off pranks or danced together with you - although they always told you that you shouldn’t let them drag you down since you were ‘so much better.’ You didn’t care. They were your brothers, and you were going to do this together or not at all._

 

_Elias was going to go to business school to become your manager. Mikael started his training at art school and was going to be your official artist for the publications you were going to make. Even went to film school to get even better at writing scripts and filming than he already was. His job was going to be as a camera man, but of course he was also expected to become a famous director, which would make you even more famous as a group. Adam, knowing he needed to have another job to support himself until his music career would take off, started an apprenticeship as a sales person together with Mutta, who knew that playing pranks would never work as an actual career - as much as he wished it did._

 

_Sure, your plan was ridiculous and only half serious. Still, it was clear that the six of you wanted to stick together and support each other in all your endeavours._

 

_But then, Boris came along, and everything changed when you decided to choose fame over family._

 

You get on the subway as if in trance, changing trains at the main station to get home, still lost in thought. By the time you get off the train in Drammen, tears are streaming down your face. They’re tears of regret, of anger at yourself for being so damn selfish.

 

Soon, you reach your parents’ street and wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. You can’t let your mother see you cry. Looking up at the sky, you stand still and take a few deep breaths to get a hold of yourself. The sky is clear tonight, and the fact that the stars are clearly visible makes you think of Sana again.

 

She has always been fascinated with science, and although astronomy wasn’t her favourite subject, she still enjoyed explaining the different constellations to you one evening at Eid. You almost smile at the memory of her concentrated expression. Back then, you pretended to listen to her talk while watching her face, fighting the urge to put an arm around her.

 

Groaning with frustration, you’re about to chastise yourself for even thinking about liking Sana, when you suddenly remember one sentence Sana threw at you, and the mere memory makes you shiver.

 

_“I actually liked you.”_

 

You don’t dare think she meant those words the way you remember them. But you still can’t shake the image of Sana’s tear-filled eyes. She was obviously upset about you thinking she would try to hurt your public image - although she must know as well as you that you didn’t actually mean that. It slipped out in the heat of the moment, and you know that Sana would never sell you out, not for all the money in the world.

 

Finally, you throw your parents’ front door shut behind you and pad to your bedroom, flopping down on the mattress with a long sigh.

 

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what Sana meant. The fact that you even wonder about it makes one thing perfectly clear. Burying your face in your pillow, you try to chase the thought away, but it’s already there anyway.

 

_You still have a big-ass crush on Sana. And you just fucked it up for good, you asshole._

 


	4. Chapter Three: Prayers and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sana can't hate Yousef

**Sana**

 

**_Wednesday 3rd July 2026_ **

 

You hate the fact that you don’t even consider staying home the day after Yousef had a go at you. Sure you could try and blame your ‘professionalism’ for your inability to make up an excuse not to go to work. But you can’t lie to yourself any more than to others.

 

Yousef’s outburst hurt you for more than one reason. You have never betrayed anyone, and as much as you dislike Yousef’s famous persona, you would never do something to damage his career. Him suggesting you would sell him out to the press is ridiculous, but still it hurts that he would even think that.

 

But what hurts even more was that he seems to think you weren’t affected by him leaving six years ago. You would have cut your own hand off before ever telling him, but you had the biggest crush on Yousef six years ago. Of course, it could never have gone anywhere since he’s not muslim and your faith is very important to you. But the fact that he obviously didn’t have a clue how much he meant to you back then felt like getting stabbed in the heart.

 

You haven’t slept much, but you’re still glad that you set your alarm a little earlier than usual for today. After an upsetting day like yesterday, you always like to take some more time for your morning prayer. A few quiet moments alone with God always help you see things in perspective.

 

You walk out of your room, still in your pajamas and when you open the door to the bathroom you have to fight a chuckle. Like every morning, Eva is sitting on the edge of the bathtub trying to force a brush through her long hair.

 

“Morning,” you say quietly, but Eva just rolls her eyes and holds out the hair brush to you.

 

“Help, Sana, please,” she whines and sighs with relief when you take the brush from her and start carefully working through your roommate’s hair.

 

“Eva, you’ve had long hair for ages, shouldn’t you be an expert at styling it by now?” you say teasingly and grab a strand of hair with at least five knots in it, starting to brush them out.

 

“Ugh, I know, I’m useless! How do you do it?” Eva sighs, pointing to your dark curls. “Your hair is curly, not straight like mine, plus you wear a hijab every day, and still it’s never tangled up like this.”

 

Smiling gently at her, you tap Eva’s nose before moving on to the next strand of her hair, holding it tightly so as not to pull at the roots. “Lifelong practice. Also, my hair isn’t half as dried out as yours, so I’m lucky.”

 

Eva shrugs and nods. “I guess you’re right.” She thinks for a moment, watching you brush out knot after knot, and then she suddenly giggles. “Maybe Vilde would like me better with short hair, what do you think?”

 

That makes you frown again. “What makes you say that?”

 

Pursing her lips, Eva hesitates before answering. “She didn’t ask for my number, you know ... “

 

You have just finished brushing the last knots out of Eva’s hair and put your hands on her shoulders, making her look up at you. “Eva, don’t EVER change your look for anyone but yourself. If Vilde doesn’t like you with long hair, she doesn’t deserve you with short hair, end of story.”

 

A slow smile grows on Eva’s lips as you let go of her and remove an entire bushel of hair from the brush, tossing it into the bin under the sink. When you look into Eva’s eyes again, she lets out a happy sigh and wraps both arms around you. “You’re too good to me, Sana,” she murmurs at your ear, and although it’s too early in the day for hugs, you can’t help but smile at her shoulder and hug her back.

 

“I know,” you say in a mock-annoyed tone, making both of you chuckle. “But now I have to pray, otherwise I won’t make it to work in time,” you add and gently disengage yourself from Eva.

 

“That bad, huh?” Eva asks with a knowing look on her face.

 

Rolling your eyes, you pick up a hairband from the shelf below the bathroom mirror and tie your hair into a bun. “I pray every day, Eva,” you tell her, although you know your roommate is more than aware of that.

 

“I know, Sana, I’ve known you since we were kids. But you’re hardly ever desperate to pray, at least not in the morning. And when you are, you always have _that_ look on your face,” Eva explains, pointing to your eyes.

 

You want to frown at her and ask what the heck she means, but she doesn’t even wait for you to breathe in before she goes on.

 

“Did you have a rough day yesterday?” she asks softly, putting an arm around your waist and looking at you through the mirror. The two of you look so different: Eva is pale and almost a head taller than you, and her hair is dark brown and long, while you are short with black curly hair and olive skin. But still, Eva is the sister you needed and she’s always been there for you, just like you have always been there for her. So you know it’s no use trying to lie to her, she can see right through you anyway.

 

“Yousef and I … we sort of had a fight,” you start, pausing for a moment to bite your lip. “He knows I kind of complained about him … to you.”

 

Eva stares at you with wide eyes. “Ooooh shit, I’m so sorry, Sana, that’s my fault.”

 

You wink at her with a smile and pat her arm. “I know, he told me.”

 

Eva makes a face. “You know me, I can never keep my mouth shut.”

 

“It’s okay, Eva, you are forgiven,” you tell her. “But I really have to go now.”

 

You point to the sink with your chin and Eva sighs dramatically before stepping aside to let you turn on the faucet.

 

“Tell Allah I said hi,” she giggles, making you roll your eyes and smile at the same time.

 

“Will do,” you call after Eva as she leaves the bathroom.

 

After performing Wudu, you go back to your room and get the prayer mat out of your closet. Having lived in this apartment for over a year, you know by heart in which direction Mekka lies by now.

 

You lay out the prayer mat in your usual spot next to your bed and step onto it, taking a deep breath. Then, you close your eyes and raise your palms to your ears, opening your heart and mind to God.

 

“Allahu akbar. Subhanaka Allahumma wa bhamdika wa tabaara kasmuk wa Ta’ala jadduk wa la ilaha ghairuk …”

 

You only say a few words out loud, mostly you pray in whispers. Not because you’re worried that Eva will hear, but because you’re listening to God while praying. You don’t to want to miss anything.

 

By the time you start praying the first Surah, the world around you has gone quiet and you feel your heartbeat slowing down. Every move you make and every word you pray brings you further away from the stressful thoughts and nagging worry about your situation at work.

 

When you finally turn your face to the right and then to the left to end your prayer with the words “Assalamu’ alaykum wa rahmatulla,” you feel ready. Ready for work, ready to face Yousef, and ready for whatever this day may bring.

 

Going to the kitchen, you find that Eva has prepared a bowl of cereal for you. She’s downing a cup of coffee in quick gulps when you sit down, her eyes wide in fear.

 

“I’m late, my first class starts in ten minutes,” she pants, running past you to her room.

 

“You’re always late, Eva,” you call after her, smiling to yourself and digging into your cereal. “But thanks for breakfast.”

 

“No problem, see you tonight,” Eva yells from the hallway and half a minute later, the door slams shut behind her.

 

Whenever Noora isn’t home, Eva is late for work every single day. Right now, Noora is in the US, meeting with a group of other lawyers and human rights activists to discuss how they can help the Tibetan exile government fight the human rights violations against their people being perpetrated by the Chinese.

 

Noora only graduated from law school a year ago, and she got the first job she applied for: Amnesty International was looking for a passionate young human rights lawyer, and Noora fits that description perfectly.

 

As proud as you are of your friend, you miss Noora whenever she’s not around. On one hand, Noora somehow always manages to coax Eva out of bed on time, and on the other, she’s the best listener you know.

 

_You met Noora four years ago while you were doing an internship with a sports doctor who accompanied the female skiteam of Norway on their summer training camp in Finland. Sybil was only a few years older than you and very passionate, but she had a tendency to say insensitive things about your religion. So sometimes, after a long day of listening to Sybil and giving the girls pointers on how to avoid overstretching their knees, you needed a break. You’d loved snowboarding since you were a kid, and speeding down the hill after most tourists had already retreated to their hotels always helped you wind down._

 

_On one of those evenings, however, there was one last tourist waiting for a cable car at the bottom of the hill. She had shoulder-long blond hair and a kind smile, so when she got into a car and gestured invitingly to the bench opposite her, you decided to join her._

 

_“Taking advantage of the empty slopes as well?” she asked as soon as you sat down and winked at you._

 

_“I don’t like crowds,” you replied curtly, making the other woman laugh._

 

_“Tell me about it.” She leaned back, watching you carefully for a moment. “I’m Noora, by the way.”_

 

_“Sana,” you gave back, removing your glove to shake Noora’s outstretched hand._

 

_“Nice to meet you Sana. I didn’t know there was another woman snowboarding on her own up here at this hour.”_

 

_“I work here,” you corrected her and in spite of the fact that you usually preferred to be alone on the track, you somehow felt that Noora wasn’t just another dumb tourist._

_You found out that she was studying law in Bergen and wanted to become a human rights lawyer. She had just passed her bachelor’s degree and this trip was a reward she gave to herself._

 

_“Partly for passing my exams and finishing my thesis, but also for finally breaking up with my arrogant shithead of a boyfriend,” Noora said dryly, making you both laugh._

 

_“Guys,” you grumbled, trying hard not to think of Yousef. He had left almost two years ago and apart from seeing him on TV sometimes, you hadn’t heard from him since. But it still hurt. He just up and left without telling anyone where and why. At first, you and the boys assumed that his manager had somehow forced him to sign a contract, but latest when you saw how successful “Veritas” were becoming, you didn’t think that was the case anymore. It was obvious that Yousef had chosen fame over his friends … and you._

 

_“I have to agree with you on that. I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone anytime soon,” Noora declared then. Her voice sounded casual, but you could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew her words had affected you._

 

_Luckily, the cable car arrived at the peak in that very moment. You both jumped off and carried your boards out of the station towards one of the tracks._

 

_“Will I see you tomorrow evening? Around the same time?” Noora asked tentatively before bending down to tie her boots to her board._

 

_“I think so,“ you replied without thinking. You had no idea why, but something about Noora made you want to talk to her again._

 

_“Good,” Noora gave back simply, waiting for you to get on your board as well. The two of you then rode downhill silently, except for the occasional laugh or joyful squeal._

 

_For the rest of Noora’s stay, you met her every evening and talked a lot about your and her studies and about your families. You learned that Noora was hardly in touch with her parents, mostly because they didn’t approve of her being bisexual. Her mother was very religious and her father felt that bisexuals were just “being greedy.” It surprised you how openly Noora talked about her sexuality. Most people assumed you were homophobic because of your religion. But Noora was different in a lot of ways, you soon learned._

 

_At the end of her holiday, Noora gave you her number, and you texted her the same night. When you got back to Oslo, Noora told you she was moving there to finish her masters at UiO, and soon after, Eva, Noora and you became an inseparable trio._

 

Your trip down memory lane is interrupted by the sound of an incoming text on your phone.

 

**_Noora_ **

 

_You can do this. Just be your usual,_

_professional self, as always._

 

Smiling to yourself, you wonder if Noora has telepathic abilities that let her know whenever you miss her the most.

 

_Thanks, will do that. I miss you._

 

_Miss you too <3\. _

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

It turns out that Yousef is even more nervous about meeting you again than you are. He comes into the gym with a guilty look on his face, and although you planned to be cold to him, you instantly know you’ll fail when he clears his throat and hesitantly says your name.

 

“Sana? Can we talk about … yesterday?”

 

His voice cracks at the last word, making you bite your lower lip. God knows you weren’t exactly fair to him either. “Sure. After our session? You’re my last patient today,” you tell him, trying to smile. Yousef takes a deep breath and nods slowly.

 

“Okay.”

 

The session goes well, although it is a bit awkward with both of you trying to be nice but the fight still hanging between you two. So you’re glad when the hour is finally over and you agree to meet Yousef outside the hospital after changing into street clothes in your office.

 

After getting changed, you take a deep breath and say a little prayer before leaving your office, asking God for the right words to talk to Yousef.

 

You find him on the bench in the courtyard, and the second he sees you, he jumps to his feet, a nervous smile on his face.

 

“So, where do you live?” he asks tentatively, pursing his lips.

 

“Frogner, and you?” Your voice sounds too cold, but you can’t help it.

 

“Uranienborg, at my parents’ house. So … would you mind walking me home?” Yousef asks, and the hopeful smile he gives you when you nod makes you want to forgive him right away. But before you can find the right words, Yousef clears his throat as the two of you start walking.

 

“Okay, so … I’m sorry for being an asshole. Not just yesterday, but also six years ago.” He looks into your eyes, and the pain and regret you see in them makes your heart hurt. “I only thought about building a career and not about how I hurt everyone I loved with the way I did it. It’s inexcusable, and I hope you can forgive me someday. And I guess you know that accusing you of shit-talking me to the press …” He laughs mirthlessly, running a hand through his hair. “That was the dumbest thing I ever said.”

 

Clearing your throat, you nod slowly before looking up into Yousef’s eyes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too for yelling at you like that. I mean … you couldn’t know that it hurt me when you left, I was just … Elias’s little sister after all.”

 

Yousef sucks in a breath, shaking his head vigorously. “You were never just his sister to me, Sana.”

 

He seems to regret saying the words the moment they’re out of his mouth, but you still feel your heartbeat speed up.

 

“What?” you can’t help but ask, and Yousef lets out a nervous laugh. You can tell he’s blushing and for a second, you think he’s going to make a joke to distract you. But then he’s looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

 

“I … I kind of had a crush on you back then, Sana. I just … I never did anything about it because I was sure Elias was going to kill me if I tried.”

 

His words register in your brain, but you can’t react. Back then, you thought Yousef never really saw you anyway. Sure, you exchanged smiles and small talk whenever he was at your house, but it was never anything but friendly - or so you thought.

 

“And of course, I was also pretty sure you were out of my league. Plus, you’re muslim and I’m not, so that was definitely not going to happen.” Yousef speaks hesitantly now, as if he’s expecting you to contradict him. But of course, he’s right. You could never date a non-muslim, the Quran forbids it.

 

“Why aren’t you muslim anymore? I remember you were fasting with us when we were younger, so you did believe once, right?” you ask him, trying to distract yourself. You have to know how convinced Yousef is of his lack of faith.

 

Sighing deeply, Yousef bites his lower lip before answering. “I had a very serious talk with Even when we were seventeen … I told him I didn’t feel God’s presence in my heart or in my life and asked if that made me a bad person. And even after Even told me that not believing in God didn’t make me less of a good person, I struggled for a long time.” Yousef lets out a long breath and then smiles hesitantly at you.

 

“I still love the traditions, I even fast sometimes. But I haven’t felt God, ever. And I know now that I don’t need to feel him to be who I am.” He watches your face carefully, and you try to smile at him. Strangely, it doesn’t feel painful to hear him say these words. Because you can tell he’s not lying, and he seems to be at peace with his lack of faith.

 

“I’m glad you’re not struggling anymore,” you tell him, hoping you sound genuine.

 

Yousef smiles, but it looks painful. “At least not with religion, yeah.”

 

“The boys,” you say thoughtfully. “Will you try and talk to them again?”

 

“Do you think I could?” Yousef asks back, making a face. “I mean, you were mad at me, too. Don’t you think they still hate me too much to forgive me?”

 

You shrug, winking at him. “I think at least _I_ can forgive you.”

 

Yousef stares at you for a moment and then lets out a surprised laugh. “You can? That’s … kind of you, thank you, Sana.”

 

“You’re welcome,” you say, and somehow you can’t look away. Yousef’s eyes are full of gratitude, and you almost want to hug him.

 

He lets out another relieved laugh, but then his expression becomes pensieve. He chews his lower lip for a long moment, obviously lost in thought. “Are you still in touch with Even?” he finally asks, chuckling nervously.

 

You almost laugh out loud. “I’m friends with him and his boyfriend, so yeah.”

 

“Oh wow, that’s right. Even and Isak are still together?” Yousef looks happy at the thought, making you remember the times when you were worried that the boys would react badly to Even dating a boy. You were so happy to be completely wrong about that back then.

 

“They are living together now,” you say with a nod, making Yousef laugh joyfully.

 

“That’s awesome.” He pauses, looking at his feet for a moment. “Do you think … Can you ask Even if he would talk to me?”

 

You should have seen that question coming of course. But it still catches you off guard. “Uh, I guess?” you say without thinking about it, smiling encouragingly at Yousef.

 

“Thanks!” Yousef says with a long exhale. “Maybe he doesn’t hate me as much as the others …”

 

Again, your heart hurts at the thought of how Yousef must feel. “It’s going to be okay, Yousef,” you tell him, hating how broken your voice sounds.

 

“I hope you’re right,” Yousef replies, a hesitant look on his face.

 

You walk in silence for a while, but it’s not awkward anymore. Yousef tells you about how he and the boys quit their jobs right after he got injured because their ruthless boss wouldn’t allow Yousef to go to the hospital and insisted they keep touring. And while a part of you almost feels vindictive about Yousef’s illustrious career coming to an abrupt end like this, you’re mostly just glad that he got out of what was obviously a bad situation.

 

“That Boris … sounds like a real asshole. Are you thinking of suing him?” you ask, suddenly feeling angry.

 

“I don’t think any of us want to,” Yousef replies, looking thoughtful. “We’re all just lucky we got out of there. I mean, he fired us via text first, but we all got the letters a week after, and he only wrote that we ‘went against his wishes’ and that he therefore ‘doesn’t feel comfortable working with us anymore.’ So yeah, we got off easy.”

 

Yousef then asks about your job and how you got into it. You tell him about your training, how you always knew you wanted to be a physical therapist and that more often than not, you truly love every aspect of your job. “That’s awesome, Sana,” Yousef says after a while, the sincere joy in his expression making you blush. “I wish more people loved their jobs as much as you.”

 

“Thanks, I guess,” you tell him, looking down at your hands. “It only gets weird when people ask how I can treat men since I’m a muslim.”

 

Looking back up at him, you’re surprised to see Yousef roll his eyes. “I can’t believe the stupidity of some people,” he says, shaking his head. “Your religion is your business, no one has the right to so much as comment on what it means for you.”

 

You don’t really know what to say to that, but you manage a grateful smile.

 

Soon, you’re already in front of Yousef’s parents’ house. He turns to face you and takes a deep breath, burying both hands in his pockets. “So, are we good?” he asks, a hesitant grin on his face.

 

Grinning back at him, you nod slowly. “I think so.”

 

“Phew, okay,” he lets out, winking at you. “That’s good. So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, be on time,” you tell him, waving your index finger.

 

“Yes ma’am,” Yousef laughs and waves at you. “See you, Sana.”

 

“Bye.” You wave back and watch him walk into the house. A part of you wonders why it was so easy for you to forgive him. But of course, you already know the answer to that question. And you really don’t want to admit it to yourself.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**Friday 5th July 2026**

 

Two days later, you’re sitting at the table in your living room with Noora and Eva, enjoying Noora’s tortillas. She came home the day before, filled to the brim with new ideas on how to help the Tibetan government and also with lots of stories about the people she met.

 

“I talked for a long time about the oppression going on in Tibet with Jonas. He’s Norwegian, too actually, an independent investigative journalist.” Noora tries to sound casual, but both you and Eva know her too well to fall for it.

 

“Ooh, sounds interesting, when can we meet him?” Eva asks, winking at Noora while shovelling a big portion of Tortilla onto her plate.

 

Noora blushes and tries to act like she doesn’t know what Eva means. “Why would you want to meet him, Eva?”

 

You catch Noora’s eye and raise an eyebrow at her in question. _Really?_

 

Eva groans and snaps her fingers impatiently. “Because you obviously like this Jonas. Don’t try to deny it, I know you.” She smiles sweetly and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling the pan towards her.

 

“Fine, maybe I gave him my number,” she admits, biting her lip.

 

Eva squeals happily. “Yes, I knew it! Being a lawyer does get you laid.”

 

“Oh my gosh, Eva, stop.” Noora’s cheeks are a deep red now, and she looks to you for help.

 

“He first has to text her at all, Eva, keep your pants on,” you say, patting Eva’s hand.

 

But Eva just rolls her eyes at you and turns back to Noora. “I bet he already did, am I right Noora?”

 

Noora purses her lips and the look on her face tells Eva everything she needs to know. “Ha!” she calls out, pumping her fist in the air. “Awesome!”

 

“We’re going out for a coffee tomorrow, but I’m not expecting anything,” Noora admits quietly. Her cheeks are still red, but she’s smiling happily.

 

“He better be nice to you,” you tell her with a wink.

 

Noora grins and winks back. “He’s really kind. And he cares a lot, about people and the environment and so on.”

 

“Marry him tomorrow,” Eva laughs, but then clears her throat, taking Noora’s hand in hers. “No, but seriously: I’m glad you’re going on a date with a good guy. Just don’t overthink it, okay?” She picks up her glass of water, and you can’t help but chuckle at her words.

 

“Says the girl who still hasn’t made an effort to find Vilde,” you say dryly, making Eva spit in her drink.

 

“Eh, how am I supposed to find her? Do you know how many women in Norway are called Vilde?” Eva sounds both defensive and exasperated. “I don’t even know if she lives in Oslo.”

 

You raise both eyebrows at her, finally taking a bite from Noora’s delicious Tortilla. You’ve told Eva a few times to just contact the organisers of the event where she met Vilde, so you think you don’t need to say it again. It turns out you’re right.

 

“And I don’t want to call the organisers of the event, they’ll think I’m a freaking stalker,” Eva says, covering her face with both palms.

 

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll meet her again,” Noora says softly, covering Eva’s hand with her own.

 

Eva sighs deeply and you nod in agreement, still chewing. “Thanks, Noora. I hope you’re right.”

 

“She is,” you say, giving Eva a warm smile. She can be annoying sometimes, but she’s been your best friend for as long as you can think. And there is nothing you want more than for Eva to be happy.

 

After dinner, you help Noora do the dishes. She asks about Yousef and you tell her that he wants to reconcile with the boys. Noora is impressed and says she hopes he also apologised to you.

 

“He did. The day after our argument, actually,” you tell her, carefully avoiding Noora’s gaze.

 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Noora sounds surprised and curious as you place the last dried plate into the cupboard. Suddenly, you can’t look into your roommate’s eyes anymore.

 

“Yeah it is. I have to get along with my patients, otherwise work just sucks,” you say, trying to sound casual. But you know you’re failing spectacularly when you see Noora’s raised eyebrows. Clearing your throat, you add: “Uhm, I have to go … write an email.”

 

“Sure,” Noora says, a knowing smile on her lips, but she doesn’t ask questions. That’s another reason why you love her so much.

 

As soon as you’re in your room, you dig your phone out of your pocket and dial a number. It rings twice until Even picks up.

 

“Hello Sana,” he says cheerfully. “What’s up?”

 

Smiling to yourself, you sit down on your bed and lean back into the pillows.

 

“Hey Even. I have a question for you.”

 

“Shoot,” Even says, sounding curious. “I have fifteen minutes before Isak comes home.”

 

You make a face. “Oh shit, should I call later?”

 

“No no, go ahead. He’s usually late anyway,” Even laughs joyfully. “What’s up?”

 

Taking a deep breath, you sit up a little straighter. “Okay, so I know this is a bit weird … but Yousef asked me to check if you would like to talk to him again. He feels terrible about the way he left and wants to apologise to you guys.”

 

For a moment, Even is silent. But just when you’re about to ask if he’s still there, he clears his throat. “Uh, I guess I could do that, yeah,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse. “What is he expecting, though? I doubt I can convince the others to forgive him, not just like that anyway.”

 

With a deep sigh, you lie down on your side, biting the inside of your cheek. “I know. It’s just … he apologised to me, and he seemed really sincere …” You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I think he just wants to say he’s sorry. And maybe he’s hoping at least you will forgive him?”

 

Even lets out a short laugh. “I can’t be mad at anyone for long, I guess he remembers that,” he says, sounding thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel bad.

 

“You’re right, forget I asked. I’ll tell him you don’t want to talk to him.”

 

“Wait, no. I didn’t say that,” Even calls out, and you have to bite back a giggle. “Tell him he can text me.”

 

“Okay,” you say, grinning to yourself. “Should I tell him to expect a beating?”

 

Even giggles at that. “Don’t tell him anything, just say he can text me. I may not be able to stay mad at him once I see him, but at least I can make him sweat if he doesn’t know what to expect.”

 

“Fair enough,” you agree, letting out a tiny giggle yourself. “Thanks, Even.”

 

You expect Even to say bye and hang up, but he clears his throat again. “But Sana?” he asks and your heart sinks. You should have known. “Why are you doing this for Yousef? I thought you were annoyed that you have to treat him and now you try to help him make amends with his friends?”

 

“Ugh, Even,” you let out, almost biting your tongue. “First of all, I’m his friend too, and he has been … really nice and polite, okay?” As much as you try to sound rational, you know it’s no use. Your voice is shaking, but even if it wasn’t, Even knows you too well not to see right through you, although he’s not even in the same room.

 

“Sure, I believe you,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Even, he’s not muslim, okay? Just .. whatever you’re thinking … stop,” you burst out, feeling your cheeks blush furiously.

 

“I’m not thinking anything,” Even lies, chuckling slightly. “But even if I was … Religious differences aren’t that important, Sana. I think it was you who told me that once.”

 

“Ugh, I swear you’re even sappier than Eva,” you growl, trying and failing to sound indignant. “You haven’t even talked to Yousef yet, stop trying to fix me up with him.”

 

Both of you laugh at that. “I guess you’re right,” Even concedes then. “Maybe I’ll kill him when I see  him and your problem will be solved.”

 

“Bye Even,” you say, still laughing.

 

“See you soon, Sana” Even chuckles. “Tell Eva and Noora I said hello.”

 

“Will do,” you tell him and then hang up, wondering how a simple conversation about Yousef can make your heart flutter in your chest like a butterfly.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**Monday 8th July 2026**

 

On the following Monday, you try to deny to yourself that you’re nervous to see Yousef. This is just because you’re afraid you’ll forget to tell him about Even’s answer. That’s all.

 

By the time it’s ten o’clock, you feel like time is going slower than usual and you actually walk out into the hallway to check the clock there and make sure your phone isn’t acting up. Of course, the hallway clock shows the same time as your phone, making you laugh at yourself. _Keep it together, Bakkoush._

Finally, it’s eleven thirty, and you have barely dismissed your previous patient when Yousef walks into the gym.

 

“Good morning, Sana,” he says brightly, making you frown at him.

 

“It’s almost noon, when did you get up?” you ask, laughing at his expression. He looks as if you’d caught him stealing candy.

 

“I may have slept in a little longer than usual,” he admits, clearing his throat and looking at his shoes, making you laugh again.

 

“Well, I hope that means you’ll rock today’s session.” You point to the leg press, and Yousef nods with a charming smile.

 

“I’ll do my best.” And just as he’s about to walk past you, you touch his lower arm, making him look up at you.

 

“Oh, by the way: I spoke to Even. He wants to talk to you.” You look straight into Yousef’s eyes as you say it. Seeing his entire face light up at your words makes your heart flutter with joy.

 

“Really? He said that?” Yousef sounds incredulous, but he lets out a joyful laugh.

 

You nod slowly, still smiling at him. “He said you should text him so you can meet up.”

 

“Oh my gosh, Sana, that’s awesome! Thank you so much!” Yousef takes your hand in both of his and shakes it, looking into your eyes. The grateful expression on his face almost moves you to tears.

 

“Don’t get too excited, he might want to beat the shit out of you,” you tell him, but you’re smiling too hard for Yousef to think you’re serious.

 

He laughs joyfully, letting go of your hand and running his fingers through his hair, relief flooding his features. “I’ll take my chances.”

 

It takes a while for Yousef to get a hold of himself. He keeps letting out long sighs and short laughs, but you don’t mind. While watching him come to terms with the fact that he will have a chance to reconnect with his former best friends, you finally realise that there is no way you can deny your feelings to yourself any longer.

 

You’re starting to fall for Yousef. And although you know you should, you have no desire to stop it.


	5. Chapter Four: Shut up and dance

 

**Yousef**

**Thursday, 9th July 2026**

You’re sitting in the back of the kaffebrenneriet on Akersgata, trying to stop your hands from shaking. It’s still hard to believe that Even agreed to meet you here. He had replied almost instantly when you texted him, asking if you guys could talk. However, his replies have all been rather short and to the point, so you have no idea how angry he is going to be.

Every time someone comes to the back of the café, you look up in fear, but when Even finally shows up, your heart nearly stops. He looks handsome, in his blue shorts and white T-shirt, and somehow, he seems to be even taller than you remember. You automatically get to your feet, if for no other reason than to feel a little less intimidated.

“Even,” you say, holding your hand out to him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Hey man,” Even says and you’re relieved to hear that he doesn’t sound cold. He sets down his cup of coffee next to your untouched cappuccino and then shakes your hand, smiling warmly at you. “How are you? How’s your knee?” he asks, pointing to the brace wrapped around your left knee.

You sit down again and try to smile back, still feeling horribly nervous. “Uh, I’m okay. Still in therapy, but it’s going alright, I guess.”

Even chuckles shortly. “Sana tells me you’re putting in quite the effort,” he remarks, and the knowing look in his eyes makes you blush. He’s been here all of five seconds and is already dragging you. You guess you deserve it.

“You know how angry Sana can get if people don’t listen to her,” you tell him with a smirk. “I only do what I have to do to survive.”

Even laughs out loud at that and sits down across from you. “Smart man.”

And then, it’s quiet for a moment, both of you eyeing each other carefully, your fingers wrapped around your coffee cups.

After a while, you finally take a swig of your cappuccino and then clear your throat. “Even, I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” You purse your lips, watching Even’s face for a reaction, but he’s just waiting for you to go on. Looking at your hands, you sigh deeply and run a hand through your hair. “It was horribly selfish of me to just up and leave like that, without telling you anything. You and the boys, you were my brothers and I just .. I acted like an egotistical idiot.” Running your hand through your hair, you correct yourself. “I _was_ an egotistical idiot.”

You’re about to add that maybe you _still are_ an egotistical idiot, but then you feel Even’s hand on your arm.

“You _were,_ but that doesn’t mean you still are,” he says softly, and you let out a long breath, finally daring to look up at him.

“I hope not,” you say with a sigh. “It took a freaking knee injury to get me to come back here. And I’m not sure I would have had the courage to reach out to any of you if that hadn’t happened.”

Even nods slowly and squeezes your arm before letting go and taking a sip of his coffee. “But you are here now. Maybe your knee injury got you back to Oslo, but it didn’t ask Sana to talk to me for you. That was you.”

You both laugh at that, and you feel the tension fall off of you like a heavy coat. “That’s nice of you to say, thank you.”

After that, the conversation flows easier. You tell Even about the time with ‘Veritas’, about how the dancing was fun and that the boys became your friends over time, but that you still never felt at home in that life. Even listens patiently, wincing when you tell him how Boris reacted to your injury and laughing happily at the story of how they boys quit their jobs out of loyalty to you.

“I’d like to meet Mahdi, he sounds cool,” he says, patting your shoulder. “And I’m glad you weren’t alone when all that shit happened.”

“Yeah, Mahdi’s awesome.” You empty your cup and then take a deep breath, looking into Even’s eyes. “Even, do you think the boys would talk to me again?”

Even sighs deeply, pursing his lips. “I guess I could try and ask?”

You shake your head at that, suddenly feeling brave. “No. I already felt like a coward asking Sana to talk to you for me. I want to talk to them myself.”

“Wow, okay.” Even nods slowly and then raises both eyebrows at you. “I’m going over to their kollektiv later, do you want to join?”

“Uh, sure,” you say before you can stop yourself, feeling your heartbeat in your throat when you realise what you just agreed to.

“Good,” Even says then and finishes his coffee in one gulp. “Let’s go then.”

Staring blankly at Even, you get to your feet. “Right now?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m always a bit early anyway.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and smiles at his screen. “And Isak just texted that he’s already there.”

“Oh wow, that’s … okay,” you huff out a long breath. “I guess it makes no sense to put it off, huh?”

Even winks at you and leads the way out of the cafe. “”They won’t kill you … I think,” he says with a chuckle.

“Haha, very funny.” You pat his upper arm when you’re out on the street. “If Adam rips out my throat, you’re going to have to explain that to my parents.”

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” Even giggles, making you gasp in faked outrage.

“Oh my gosh, you’re becoming a snake, just like Isak! I knew that boy was a bad influence.”

Even laughs happily, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You put your arm around his middle and together, the two of you walk down the street towards the tram stop. And if it weren’t for the daunting task of facing the boys, you could almost believe that things are back to the way they were.

You and Even arrive at the boys’ kollektiv a little while later, and your heart is in your throat again when Even rings the doorbell. He squeezes your upper arm, smiling comfortingly. “It’s going to be okay, Yousef.”

Smiling gratefully, you cover Even’s hand with your own. But before you can say something, the sound of Elias’ voice coming from the intercom makes you jump. “Hello?”

“Hey man, it’s Even. And I’m bringing someone.” Even sounds casual, but you can tell he’s a little nervous as well.

“Alright?” Elias sounds a little hesitant, but he buzzes the door open anyway. “Come up, then.”

A minute later, you and Even are standing outside the boys’ apartment, and before you can knock, the door swings open, revealing Elias, Mikael and Adam.

Their faces fall when they recognise you, and Elias crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you take a shuddering breath, squaring your shoulders.

“I’ve been a complete idiot for six years and I want to say sorry,” you blurt out, making a face when you realise how stupid that sounds.

But Elias looks over at Mikael and Adam, who both nod slowly, and then they step aside to let you and Even in. “I guess we can listen to you at least,” Mikael grumbles at you, and then turns to hug Even hello.

Soon, all seven of you are sitting in the boys’ living room, you on a chair at the table and the boys spread out on the couch and two arm chairs. They all watch you wearily, except for Even. He’s leaning against Isak’s shoulder and gives you an encouraging smile.

Clearing your throat, you lean your elbows on your knees, looking at the six boys you once called brothers, hoping that somehow, they will be able to forgive you for being a spectacular asshole.

“Okay, I guess … There’s not much to say except that I know I was … no I _am_ a fucking dickhead.” Shaking your head, you let out a long breath and force yourself to keep looking at the boys. “Boris promised me that I was going to be able to make a living by doing what I love. And although I hated leaving you guys behind, I felt I had to try. Dancing was everything to me, and I felt I would never forgive myself if I wouldn’t do it.”

You bury your face in your hands at the memory of how stupid you were back then. “But now I know,” you go on, realising that the boys can’t hear you like this. So although you can feel tears welling up behind your eyes, you look up again.

“Now I know that I will never forgive myself for leaving you guys behind. “Your voice cracks at the last words and you quickly hide your face in your hands again. Taking three deep breaths, you manage to swallow the tears and then open your eyes.

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you. But I still need you to know that that I miss you guys … like hell, to be honest.” Letting out a mirthless laugh, you purse your lips before you go on. “And I wish I could go back and change everything. I would tell Boris to go fuck himself and ruin someone else’s life.”

You’re about to add that you wish you had punched Boris before leaving Tokyo when you feel someone’s hand on your arm. Looking up, you can hardly see it’s Mikael through the veil of tears in your eyes. Only now do you notice your face is soaking wet already.

Wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your jacket, you try to get a hold of yourself, but then Mikael is hugging you and you’re crying at his shoulder. “I’m such a fucking wuss,” you let out as half a laugh, half a sob, holding on to Mikael as if you were drowning. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it, man, you’re going to make me cry too,” Mutta says then, getting up from the armchair he’s been sitting on and walking over to you. Mikael lets out a chuckle and lets go of you, and then Mutta’s hands are on your shoulders. “You were a dick, that’s true, but … It’s pretty brave of you to show up here.” He chuckles quietly, patting your shoulders before letting go of you. “I mean, for all you know Adam or Elias might have killed you.”

Both of you laugh at that, and you look up at him and Mikael. “Thanks, boys,” you say sincerely, and then turn to look up at Adam, Elias and Isak, who are still eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I can’t really stay mad at you since Even seems to have forgiven you the moment you texted him,” Isak says, winking at you. “Also, holding grudges has never been my thing, so we’re good. As long as you don’t pull shit like that again.”

You grin at him, swallowing a new wave of tears. “Thanks, Isak, that means a lot.”

“Ugh, are we just going to forget that he fucked up everything by running out on us?” Elias bursts out then, making you flinch. He gets to his feet and walks over to you, and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to punch you in the face. Nonetheless, you get up as well, looking into Elias’s eyes.

He doesn’t punch you, but instead grips your shoulder with one hand, staring angrily into your eyes. “You were our brother, man. And you just fucking left, you lied to us and never even let us know where you went! We had to find out from the fucking news that you were suddenly a member of a famous dance group and apparently didn’t want anything to do with us anymore!”

He lets out a long breath, removing his hands from your shoulders and looking at his shoes. “That fucking hurt! I had to see Even cry, do you know how badly that hurts?” Elias’s voice breaks at the last word and you look up at Even, who blushes slightly and bites his lower lip, letting you know Elias isn’t exaggerating.

“I know, Elias,” you say quietly, waiting for him to look at you before you go on. “I cried too, many times. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s still true. And I missed you every day, I never stopped caring about any of you.”

Elias purses his lips and nods slowly. “Good.” He still sounds angry, but his voice is softer than before. “It’s good to know that it hurt you.” And before you can say anything to that, Elias punches your upper arm, hard. You wince, but don’t move away, knowing that you deserve much more than a punch to your arm. “Fuck you for leaving,” Elias says then, punching you again, but not as hard as before.

“Elias, stop,” Mikael says from beside you, but you shake your head, letting him know it’s okay.

Looking into Elias’s eyes, you nod slowly. “I told you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

With a low growl, Elias hits your arm again and it’s really starting to hurt, but then he pulls you into a hug. Scoffing with surprise, you hug him back, closing your eyes and almost not daring to believe this is happening. “Never do that shit again,” he repeats Isak’s words and then, you find yourself in the middle of a tight group hug.

From then on, it gets easier. The boys are still hesitant, except for Even and Mutta, who are soon joking and laughing with you like in old times. Isak eventually joins in, and you can tell that the only reason he’s still not sure whether to trust you again is because he’s worried about Even. Adam hardly talks to you, and he eyes you suspiciously every few moments, but he still smiles when you tell him that you are very happy about his success. Mikael is quiet, too, but the hug he gives you before you, Even and Isak go home makes you hope that he will come around, too. And Elias hugs you as well, however roughly, warning you again to never disappear like that again, but he still smiles warmly at you.

You say good-bye to Even and Isak at the bus stop, thanking Even again for his help, and on your way home you’re not surprised to realise that you feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Now you have to come up with an idea to thank Sana.

**Friday, 31st July 2026**

Taking one last look at yourself in the window next to the main entrance door to Sana’s house, you try to calm down.

You know you look okay in your light blue sweater and black jeans, and you made sure your black snapback is squeaky clean. Still, this feels like the most important evening of your life, which doesn’t help with the nerves.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and think back to the events leading up to this almost historic evening.

_Ever since Sana told you that Even wanted to talk to you again, you noticed that something changed in her behaviour towards you. She’d been kind to you before, but when she delivered that awesome piece of news, her smile was full of warmth and genuine happiness. And even afterwards, she smiled at you more often and you even caught her staring at you sometimes._

_So of course, you couldn’t stop thinking about what that might mean. You even dared ask Even about it._

_“I don’t know what it means, man,” Even laughed when you asked him about Sana’s seemingly changed attitude towards you. “Knowing Sana, she could just have had a very good day. Also, as her friend, I probably wouldn’t tell you even if I did know how she feels about you.”_

_Letting out a long breath, you nodded and took off your snapback, running a hand through your hair. “So you think I should just … ask her out?”_

_Even stared at you with wide eyes. “That would be … brave, I guess. But I suggest you try to talk to one of her friends first. Do you know her roommates?”_

_“I met Eva once, she works at the dance studio where I took my first classes. Mahdi works there now too, and he introduced me when I picked him up last week.” You sighed deeply, looking at Even hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t say I know her.”_

_Chuckling slightly, Even patted your shoulder. “It can’t hurt to ask her. Eva is nice and she’s Sana’s best friend. She will be brutally honest at least.”_

_So, although the mere thought of it scared the shit out of you, you took Even’s advice. The next day, you picked up Mahdi after his last class at the studio, and luckily, it was also Eva’s last class. Mahdi knew about your plans, so he excused himself, saying he was going to the Seven Eleven around the corner to get a coffee._

_Eva was confused at first, but when you told her you wanted to ask Sana out, she squealed with joy. “Of course it’s a good idea,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. However, she wouldn’t tell you why she thought it was a good idea, she just kept reassuring you that it was worth asking and that she’s “pretty sure Sana won’t kill you.”_

_As daunting as that sounded, you still went for it the very next day. After your session, you helped Sana put away some of the equipment you’d used and then, just when she was about to shake your hand and dismiss you, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms in front of your chest._

_“So, I was wondering …” you began, making Sana frown slightly. However, she didn’t interrupt you. “Would you … can I maybe … take you out some time?”_

_Sana sucked in a breath, and for a moment, you were worried she was going to turn you down instantly. But then, her expression softened, and she cleared her throat. “Uh, I don’t really do dates, Yousef,” she said, but it sounded hesitant._

_“I know we can’t … I’m not expecting anything, Sana,” you went on before your courage could leave you. “I respect your faith and everything that comes with it. It’s just … I really like you, and I would love to spend some time with you outside of this gym, that’s all.”_

_Your palms were sweaty and you had to resist the urge to wipe them on your track pants. Somehow, you managed to hold Sana’s gaze, hoping she believed you, hoping she would just …_

_“Okay then,” she said, smiling so brightly you almost felt blinded. “When and where?”_

_For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, staring at Sana as if she were a Fata Morgana. But when she cleared her throat and let out an adorable little giggle, you came to your senses. Luckily, you had already planned out the date, so you knew what to say. Shaking yourself and blinking a few times, you let out a nervous laugh before looking into her eyes with what you hoped was a winning smile._

_“Uhm, how about Friday, at seven o’ clock? I’ll pick you up at your place.”_

_“Sounds good,” Sana replied, and before you even thought of asking, she got out her phone and asked for your number. “I’ll text you the address.”_

_“Oh, sure, that’s great,” you managed to get out, trying to stop your fingers from shaking while Sana typed your number into her phone._

_Only two hours later, you got a text from her with her address and a freaking winky smiley, which made it hard to think of anything else than Sana’s smile when she winked at you for the rest of the night._

Even now, standing outside her apartment building, it’s still hard to believe this is actually happening. You’ve had a crush on Sana ever since you first saw her play basketball when you and the boys were in 10th grade. Elias had suggested you go watch a game, and being the dicks that you were back then, you and the boys assumed Elias just wanted to mock his sister for playing a ‘boys’ sport.’ But then, you watched Sana pull off one incredible move after another, and by the time the game was done you knew that not only would you ever underestimate her again, you also needed to get to know her better. However, since she was Elias’s sister and you were a freaking coward, you never did anything about it - until now.

Shaking your head, you clear your throat  and finally ring the doorbell. Sana’s voice greets you via the intercom only seconds after, giving you hope that she might be just as excited about this as you.

When she opens the door, that thought almost evaporates. Sana’s dressed in black, except for her white trainers and silver earrings. She’s wearing red lipstick but no other make-up as far as you can tell, which makes her look even more radiant than ever.

“Hey,” she says kindly, shaking your hand.

“Hello,” you reply, clearing your throat. “Uh, I hope you’re up for a walk?”

“Sure, I like walking.” Sana sounds confident, making you even more nervous. “Where to?”

“You’ll see,” you tell her, pursing your lips and giving her an apologetic grin. “It’s not far though.”

On your way down the road, you ask Sana about her parents, and she tells you they’re going on a holiday next week, one they have been planning for almost a year. “They haven’t been to Morocco by themselves in five years, it’s about time.”

Sana’s voice is full of love for her mother and father, and you can’t help but let out a joyful laugh. “They’re still in love, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Sana says, her voice full of pride. “I want to be like that one day.” She says it casually, but the remark still sends shivers down your spine.

_I want to be like that with you one day,_ you think.

“Me too,” is what you say out loud, looking into Sana’s eyes. She blushes slightly, looking down at her feet.

You’re about to ask how Eva and Noora are doing when you realise you’re already in front of your old dance studio.

“Uhm, we’re here,” you announce, pointing to the door and digging out your keychain from your pocket.

“Oh,” Sana says and watches you fumble with the keys. Since he works here now, Mahdi lent you his key, but not before making you swear you would protect it with your life.

“I don’t care if you’re too nervous to think straight, if you don’t bring that key back, I will fucking kill you,” he said, and although he half-laughed, you knew he was very serious.

“Are you okay?” Sana asks with a chuckle, watching you try to fit the key into the keyhole.

Clearing your throat, you look up at her with what you hope is a winning smile. “Yeah, just gotta find the right one.”

Sana giggles, the soft sound making your toes curl. How can it be that she’s simultaneously the cutest and the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met? “Here, let me,” she suddenly adds, covering your hand with hers.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. So far, Sana’s only ever touched your hand in greeting. Firm, yet brief, never longer than a second. But now, her fingers are caressing your palm while reaching for the keys, and when your eyes meet hers, the warmth in them is so tangible it sends a shiver down your spine.

Taking the keys from your hand, Sana raises an eyebrow at you. “Which one is it?”

“Uh, the big one with the square top,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat again. _Get a grip for fuck’s sake, Acar._

Sana nods and flashes you another sweet smile before putting the key in the lock and turning it. “There you go,” she says quietly, the mocking tone in her voice making you want to die while her bright smile has you feeling more alive than ever.

“Thank you,” you murmur and reach for the doorknob to hold the door open for her. “After you.”

“So, is this where you first started dancing?” Sana asks as soon as the door slams shut behind you. Flipping the light switch in the corner, you nod your head, grinning at her.

“Yeah it is. I wanted to show you.” That sounded so much more impressive in your head, but Sana still nods approvingly, looking around.

Walking past her, you open the first door on the right side of the hallway, again holding it to let Sana in. “This was where I took my first class,” you add, making Sana’s eyes go wide.

“How old were you?” she wants to know, making you laugh.

“Four. My mum had to beg the teacher to let me join because she was scared I would fall on  my head if I kept practicing ‘breakdance moves’ in my room. I was actually two years too young to join, but in the end my mum made the teacher feel like it would be his fault if I broke my neck, so he made an exception.”

You look up in horror as the door falls shut, terrified that you’re boring Sana to death. But she’s laughing and nodding, a gentle smile on her lips. “That sounds like you, Yousef,” she says, and her voice isn’t filled with sarcasm, but with warmth and … admiration? “You always knew what you wanted,” she adds quietly, biting her lower lip for a second and then clearing her throat.

But before she can ask, you put up your hand and move over to the light switch, praying you didn’t make any mistakes during the preparations …

The second your finger hits the switch, the fairy lights you hung up on the wall bars in the corner of the studio light up, making you sigh with relief and Sana gasp with surprise.

“Oh wow,” she says and walks across the room towards the little surprise you prepared. You borrowed two oriental seat cushions from your sister along with a matching carpet and her little black IKEA table. The cushions and carpet are black and red, decorated with golden sequins and threads. You set the table with a set of cutlery, plates and glasses in oriental decor, and you even managed to find a real moroccan teapot at the flea market.

Mamma showed you how to make proper peppermint tea yesterday, and today she helped you pre-cook your favourite dish - Turkish Mussaka. You’ve got it in your backpack right now, in a tupperware box, ready to heat it up in the microwave in the staff kitchen down the hall.

But for now, you can’t tear your eyes off Sana, who is looking around incredulously, her smile growing wider with every second. “You did all this?” she inquires, finally looking at you again.

You just nod, letting out a short laugh. “I wanted it to be nice.”

“Well, it is,” Sana says matter-of-factly, winking at you. “Did you bring food or are we cooking? I’m warning you, I suck.”

Putting up a hand, you point to your backpack and walk over to the table, picking up the two plates. “I’ll be right back,” you tell her, pointing to the seat cushions. “Have a seat and help yourself to some tea, I’m going to warm up the food.”

“Oh, alright,” Sana says, looking impressed. You think she’s about to tease you again, but then she turns around and moves to sit on one of the cushions. Grinning happily, you walk back out of the studio.

While the Mussaka is heating up in the microwave, you search the drawers for a serving spoon, and only when you find it, you realise you can’t stop grinning. Sure, you’re still nervous as hell, but the way Sana has been smiling at you ever since you came in here makes you think you’re doing something right.

The “ping” of the microwave makes you jump, and then you’ve already loaded a generous portion of Mussaka onto each of the plates. Sana is sipping tea when you walk back into the studio, smiling softly when she sees you.

“Oh wow, that smells good,” she says as you approach the table, setting down a plate in front of her. “Mussaka?”

“Yes,” you confirm, beaming at her. You drop your backpack on the floor and sit down on the other cushion. “Made it myself.”

Sana nods with an approving look on her face. “Thank you, Yousef, that’s awesome.”

“You’re very welcome,” you say, blushing slightly and then point to Sana's plate. “Go ahead, try it.”

Sana laughs and then picks up her fork, waiting for you to do the same. And then it’s quiet for a moment, as you both dig into your plates. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. Sana sighs happily after taking the first bite, smiling warmly at you. Smiling back, you almost have to force yourself to swallow: The butterflies in your stomach are going crazy, making you fear you won’t keep a bite down.

“This is really good,” Sana then says, prompting you to let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” you say, feeling a blush warm your cheeks.

Sana lets out a nervous giggle. “Do you cook often?”

Nodding slowly, you swallow your second bite before answering. “I love cooking, but I almost never have time.”

“That’s a pity,” Sana says, and when she giggles again, you notice a slight blush on her cheeks. _She’s nervous, too._

And that realisation is all it takes to set your mind at ease, at least a little. “Well, I do have more time now, since … the accident,” you tell her, and Sana gasps and claps her palm to her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …” But you interrupt her with a laugh.

  
“It’s okay, Sana. I mean, it’s not that I’m happy I busted my knee. But it did give me the opportunity to make up with the boys … and you’re here now, so … it could be worse.” You look into her eyes, relieved to see she’s smiling again.

“I’m glad I’m here,” she says quietly and takes another bite of Mussaka.

Once you’re done eating, Sana looks around, clearing her throat. “So, what else do you have planned?”

“Uh …” you hesitate for a moment. You know what you planned to do after dinner, but you’re not sure Sana is up for it. “I was going to ask you to dance with me,” you finally let out, and for a minute, Sana’s stare makes you think she will walk out on you.

But then, she emits a peel of laughter, sending another chill down your spine. “You will dance circles around me, I have two left feet.”

“I know, but I’m ready for that, believe me,” you retort without thinking. But before you can take it back, Sana is already getting to her feet, giving you a challenging stare.

“Come on, then,” she murmurs quietly, setting her arms akimbo, her expression filled with a mix of amusement and determination. And although you can’t wait to see what happens next, you just have to stop for a second to look at her.

Her wide black trousers perfectly compliment her long-sleeved shirt and shiny black hijab, making her look like a ninja queen. Her lips are painted red, and seeing them turn up in an almost sultry smile makes your spine tingle.

Finally, you clear your throat and get up as well, walking over to the stereo, where you have placed a CD you hope Sana will like. When you press play, you catch Sana with her arms over her head, apparently doing stretches. She giggles when she sees you watching, looking so adorable you have to fight the urge to just put your arms around her and pull her close.

“You ready?” you ask her just when the first notes of Tupac’s and Dr Dre’s “California Love” start playing.

Sana lets out a laugh and then grabs the front of your hoodie, pulling you with her to the centre of the room. “Shut up and dance,” she laughs, making you both laugh.

 

 

The two of you start moving, but whatever it is you’re doing, you can’t call it dancing, not really. For a few moments, you’re worried you’ll make Sana uncomfortable with your moves, but then Sana turns on the spot in an elegant twist, raising her arms above her head.

“Wohoo,” you call out, making her giggle. And before you know it, the two of you are locked in the funniest dance battle you’ve ever been in. You both laugh a lot, mostly because you bump into each other every few seconds and Sana almost trips over her own feet a few times.

Sana doesn’t give up though, and by the time the third song is over, you’re convinced Sana was a dancer in another life.

“Don’t … ever say .. you can’t dance,” you pant, putting your palms on her shoulders with a proud smile.

Blushing slightly, Sana giggles, still panting as well. “I never said I can’t dance.”

“True,” you admit before pointing to the table in the corner. “What do you say to having a glass of tea before I take you out for ice cream?”

“YES,” Sana almost groans, making you laugh. “I love your tea by the way. It’s almost as good as the one my mum makes.”

The compliment makes you stare at Sana in disbelief. You know how much Sana loves and admires her mother. And you can’t blame her: Meryem is an impressive woman with the biggest heart.

Sana giggles when you can’t stop staring at her, making you laugh as well. “Wow, that’s a big statement,” you huff, putting your right hand on your heart. “Does that mean I get a second date?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sana laughs as she sits down on her cushion again and watches you pour tea into her glass. “You might,” she adds then, and the look in her eyes almost makes you drop the teapot.

“So, what did you tell your roommates about where you’re going tonight?” you ask tentatively, searching Sana’s face for a reaction.

She purses her lips and then smiles, putting down her tea glass on the table. “That I’m meeting you,” she says curtly, apparently fighting a giggle. “I don’t like lies.”

She says it casually, like an afterthought, but the serious look in her eyes tells you she means it. Nodding slowly, you hold her gaze and smile back. “I hate lying, too. I’m shit at it.”

You half-expect Sana to laugh again, but instead, she picks up her tea glass, takes a long sip and then puts it back down, all while watching you warily. Although your heart is suddenly hammering in your chest, you wait patiently for her to reply.

“Good,” she finally says, the look in her eyes turning that single word into a sentence. _You better not lie to me._

Instead of replying, you just nod again, still holding her gaze, and then clear your throat and empty your glass in one gulp. “Lies suck. Okay, so, how about we go for some ice cream?”

Sana blinks a few times, apparently taken aback by the sudden change of topic. But before you can panic about having said something wrong, she bursts out laughing.

Her laugh is infectious, and after a few seconds, you join in. “What, I mean it. All that dancing made me desperate for something cold,” you say in between fits of laughter, making Sana laugh even harder. “What’s so funny?” you ask and get to your feet, holding out your hand to help Sana up.

“You are. You’re funny, Yousef,” she says, still giggling, and it takes you a moment to notice she hasn’t let go of your hand.

Very subtly, you caress her ring finger with your thumb before releasing her hand, however still looking into her eyes. “Thank you. You’re funny, too. If you want to be.”

You add the last part with your hands in front of your face, feigning to fear Sana might find the compliment insulting. But she just laughs shortly and shoves your upper arm.

“Don’t tell anyone, or I might have to kill you,” she murmurs and walks backwards towards the door, watching you with a challenging grin.

Feeling a warm shiver run down your spine, you pick up your backpack and then follow her out into the hall, hoping you look more confident than you feel. “I won’t tell a soul,” you promise her, raising both eyebrows at her as you open the front door for her. “However, there is one condition.”

Sana whirls around just as you close the door of the school behind you and turn to put the key in the lock. This time, your fingers aren’t shaking.

“What?” Sana asks, trying to sound stern, but even without looking at her you can tell she’s smiling. “Which condition?”

Fighting back a grin, you turn around and try to glare threateningly at Sana. “If you don’t like the chocolate ice cream from PARADIS, I will end you.” The intended threat sounds more like a plea, making Sana laugh again.

“Alright, I guess it’s a good thing I like everything with chocolate then,” she says, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

On the way down to Vulkan, you suddenly realise that Mathallen - where the PARADIS Gelateria is - already closed at seven o’ clock. Slapping a palm to your forehead, you turn to Sana, making her frown.

“I forgot … Mathallen is already closed! And probably every other place where we could get ice cream as well.” Making a face, you fold your hands in front of your chest. “Can I buy you an ice cream some other time?”

Sana laughs and points her finger at you. “You planned this, didn’t you? So you could get that second date?”

Clutching your chest, you give Sana a mock-offended look. “Sana, I would never!”

Since you’re almost at Vulkan park anyway, Sana suggests you go sit down on the lawn there to enjoy the last rays of sunlight. You almost can’t believe your luck, but you sure as hell aren’t going to turn her down.

You settle on top of the hill, about five metres away from a young mother with her small son, who look like they’re about to leave. And for a long moment, neither of you says a word.

Once the mother and child have left, you’re alone, except for a couple making out on a blanket at the bottom of the hill, but both you and Sana ignore them, just watching the sun slowly set on the Oslo skyline.

“How are things with the boys?” Sana suddenly asks, almost making you jump.

“Uh, pretty okay, actually,” you say, turning to look at her. “They … uh, they actually helped me set up the dance studio for tonight.”

Sana emits a peel of laughter, showing off her dimples and making you want to pinch yourself. _Is this really happening?_

“That’s great. So you guys are okay again?” she then asks, sounding hesitant, but also hopeful.

You nod slowly, thinking back to the afternoon three weeks ago when Even took you with him to the kollektiv where Elias, Mikael, Adam and Mutta are living together.

So you’re not lying when you tell Sana: “Yes, we are. They yelled at me for a bit, particularly Elias. I mean he had every right.”

Sana nods slowly. “That sounds like my brother,” she says, sounding quite proud. “But they did forgive you, right?”

“Eventually, yes,” you chuckle quietly. “Elias punched my upper arm a few times, but eventually, we were all hugging, all seven of us, even Isak.”

Sana looks impressed. “Wow. Isak hardly ever hugs anyone besides Even.”

“I know!” You laugh happily at the memory of the day you got your boys back. It still feels surreal, but not half as surreal as the fact that you’re sitting here with Sana, talking openly and easily, as if you’d never done anything else.

“I’m happy for you,” Sana murmurs, making you look up at her again. Her expression is unreadable, and you suddenly remember the fight you had with her a few weeks ago.

“I’m still … I’m so sorry I just left, Sana.” You feel your heartbeat in your throat, but you have to go on. “I know I said it before, but I can’t say it enough. You always meant so much to me, and I never even thought that I hurt you as much as the boys when I left. It was the most egotistical thing I’ve ever done, and I wish I could take it all back.”

Sana smiles brightly at you and touches your shoulder with her free hand. “It’s okay, I forgive you. Just … don’t ever run away again, okay?”

“Never,” you croak, releasing Sana’s hand and wipe your face with both palms before adding. “Even if my knee completely heals, I will never put fame before family ever again. Getting you and my brothers back made that clear for me.”

Sana smiles happily and nods. “So they really all forgave you? Even Adam?”

That makes you laugh. “Adam still doesn’t trust me entirely, I think. He’s so protective, particularly of Mikael.”

Sana nods slowly. “He’s a dumbass, but a loveable one.”

“We all are, yeah. But that’s why we’re best friends.” You run a hand through your hair, sighing happily. “I can’t believe they took me back. It feels … like I came home for real the moment they decided to forgive me.”

Sana makes a sound that sounds like half a laugh, half a sob. Looking into her eyes, you notice a single tear running down her cheek. “Hey, are you alright?” you ask, worried that you said something wrong.

“Yeah,” Sana sniffs, chuckling shortly. “I’m sorry, it’s just …” She wipes her cheek and sits up a little straighter. “Life is just very good right now, Alhamdulillah.”

You’ve never heard Sana praise God before, and she seems to notice, because she gasps slightly and gives you an apologetic look. But you’re not about to let her apologise for praising the God she believes in.

“That’s amazing,” you tell her, briefly touching her upper arm and giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s good to know you like your life despite having to treat ‘an idiot with wanna-be Elvis hair’ every day.”

Sana makes a face. “I’m still so sorry ..:”

“Forget it, I was joking,” you interrupt her. “But seriously, is there a particular reason why your life is amazing right now?”

Taking a deep breath, Sana leans back on her palms and looks down at the river before turning back to you. “Well, first I managed to get my roommate a date in the most awesome way possible.”

She laughs again at the memory, and you pull up your knees to rest your crossed arms on top of them and wait for Sana to go on.

“So, I was on my way home about a week ago, waiting for the tram. First, I was alone, but then this guy came up to me, staring at me as if I were an alien. And after about a minute, he started murmuring curses under his breath.” Sana looks at her feet and pauses for a moment. “He called me names, saying that if I didn’t want to show my hair I should go back to where I came from and so on. First he was almost whispering, but the he spoke louder and louder, until some passers-by heard him and stared at me, too.”

You feel an irrational anger rise like bile in your throat. You’ve been an atheist ever since you were a teenager, but you’ve always hated any kind of discrimination against anyone. And the mere thought of Sana being attacked like this in the middle of the city with no one to help her makes you feel sick.

Sana looks up at you then with a smile on her face, and before you can voice your anger at that bastard somehow, she continues. “But just when I was about to walk away, a short woman with a blonde ponytail walked up to the guy and slapped him. She actually hit him in the face, right there in front of everyone.” She lets out a happy laugh and then bites her lower lip with a guilty look on her face.

“I know I shouldn’t enjoy other people’s pain, but that was … it felt good. Anyway, the blonde woman yelled at the man that he should be ashamed of himself and that by insulting me like that, he disrespected every decent Norwegian person because Norway is all about diversity ..” Sana pauses again and when you see her vindictive smile, you notice you’re fighting happy tears.

“What’s that woman’s name? She sounds like a bad-ass,” you ask, making both you and Sana laugh.

“That’s the best part,” Sana exclaims, and her face lights up even more. “Her name is Vilde, and as soon as she told me that I knew who she was. Eva met her at an event a while ago, and they sort of flirted with each other but didn’t exchange numbers. So … I did what I had to do.”

You stare at her, almost unable to believe what you’re hearing. Sana as a matchmaker? “You gave her Eva’s number, didn’t you?” you say, chuckling incredulously.

“Yep.” Sana smiles proudly and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “They’re going out for dinner tomorrow.”

_________________________________________________________________________

About half an hour later, you arrive outside of Sana’s building again. She turns to face you with a soft smile that turns your insides to water.

“Thank you, Yousef. I had a great time,” Sana says warmly, and before you can stop yourself, you pump your fist into the air.

“Yes!” Noticing Sana’s amused frown, you clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest. “I mean … I’m glad you had fun, I had fun too.”

Sana giggles and reaches out to pat your upper arm. “You did good.”

“So, does that mean I get a second date?” you can’t help but ask.

For a moment, Sana pretends to think hard, rubbing her chin with her thumb and index finger. But then a bright smile lights up her face and she nods slowly. “Sure.”

“Yes, awesome!” You laugh and wonder if you should dare hug Sana to say goodbye. But before you can even think about asking, Sana steps forward and wraps both arms around your shoulders.

You’re shocked for a moment, but then you hesitantly hug Sana’s middle, resting your chin on her shoulder. Feeling Sana take a deep breath, you do the same, breathing her in. Her scent is a mix of jasmine and green tea, making you want to hold on to her forever.

But you’re too afraid to scare her away, so you let go first and take a step back, clearing your throat. “Thank you,” you croak, pursing your lips and looking into Sana’s beautiful eyes.

“No, thank you,” Sana laughs, and then walks backwards towards her front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow I guess?”

“Yes, I’ll be on time, I swear,” you reply, waving at her. “Good night, Sana.”

“Good night.” Sana waves back and then she’s gone.

Letting out a long breath, you instantly pull out your phone and open the group chat with the boys.

 

**_FNG’s_ **

 

_Just dropped Sana off._

 

**_Elias_ **

_I hope you didn’t touch her._

 

**_Mikael_ **

_They went on a date not to the_

_mosque, bro._

 

**_Mutta_ **

_Shut up and let Yousef tell us_

_what happened?_

_Relax El, we just hugged._

 

**_Elias_ **

_Good._

 

**_Even_ **

_Did you dance together? Like_

_you planned?_

 

**_Isak_ **

_You mean like_ you _planned, baby._

 

_Yes, Even, we danced. She’s_

_really good._

 

**_Mutta_ **

_Awwwh cuuute._

 

**_Elias_ **

_Don’t act so surprised, Yousef. My_

_sister plays basketball, of course_

_she can dance._

 

_I know, El. We had a great time. She liked_

_the food and my tea._

 

**_Isak_ **

_So, what now? When is the second date?_

 

**_Even_ **

_You could take her to that great Lebanese_

_place I suggested._

 

_We haven’t decided yet, chill, boys._

 

**_Elias_ **

_Are you still coming over?_

 

_On my way._

 

You’re smiling like an idiot by the time you finish typing the last text. It’s hard to believe that you only started talking to the boys again a bit more than a week ago. They’re already teasing you the way they always used to.

 

It’s a short walk from Sana’s place to the house where Elias, Mutta, Adam and Mikael live in a five bedroom apartment. But just when you’re about to walk up to the front door, the sound of a familiar voice makes you stop dead in your tracks.

 

“I still think we should just … tell them,” Mikael says, sounding nervous and hopeful at the same time. Looking around, you spot him leaning against the wall of the building. Someone’s standing in front of him, their head resting on Mikael’s shoulder, and when they speak, you almost can’t believe your ears.

 

“I’m scared, Mikk,” Adam croaks, his voice full of worry. He lifts his head to look at Mikael before adding. “What if they won’t understand?”

 

You really don’t want to be eavesdropping, but you can’t move without either of them noticing you, so you just keep still, rooted to the spot.

 

Mikael brings both hands up to cup Adam’s face, smiling warmly at him. “They’re our brothers, Adam. Of course they’ll understand.”

 

“They’ll think we lied to them,” Adam interjects, wrapping both arms around Mikael’s waist. “We always knew about Even, because he never … he never hid it from us, you know. But I … I used to make stupid jokes about gay people …” He sounds so sad you wish you could walk up to him and hug him.

 

Mikael shakes his head and leans in to kiss Adam, and although you’re still shocked, you can’t help but smile at the sight. Adam kisses back instantly, wrapping one arm tighter around Mikael’s waist while running his other hand up Mikael’s back.

 

“We have all the time in the world, okay?” Mikael breathes when he pulls back. Only now do you notice that you’ve stepped closer to them, standing only a few feet away.

 

Adam nods, but before he can reply, Mikael’s eyes meet yours and he sucks in a breath. “Fuck.”

 

“It’s okay, boys, really,” you say quickly, as Adam whirls around, staring at you with a mix of fear and anger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy on you,” you add, trying to smile encouragingly at both of them. “But Mikki’s right, Adam. At least I don’t care. You’re not a liar just because you didn’t tell us about … this. I seriously don’t give a crap, as long as you’re happy.”

 

The words fall from your mouth before you can think about it, but that doesn’t make them less true. Mikael is the first to relax, taking a deep breath and stepping up to you to shake your hand. “Thanks, Yousef, that means a lot,” he murmurs and when he hesitates to pull you into a hug, you wrap your arms around him even tighter than usual.

 

“Of course, man,” you say at his ear, and when you let go, Adam is standing in front of you, hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

 

You wait for him to say something, but Adam just stands there, looking small and terribly scared. So you just walk up to him and pull him into your arms. For a moment, Adam doesn’t react at all. But then he lets out a stifled sob and throws his arms around you, clutching on to you as if he were drowning.

 

“I love you, bro,” you whisper at his shoulder, fighting back tears. “I never should have left, and I will spend the rest of my life making that up to you, okay?”

 

You feel Adam nodding at your chest and when he finally lets go of you, he smiles at you the way he used to before you threw your life away to become famous. “Okay,” he says simply and then takes Mikael’s hand. “Just .. don’t tell anyone else about this just yet, please,” he adds, holding up his and Mikael’s joined hands.

 

“That’s your story to tell, I won’t breathe a word,” you say earnestly, looking first at Adam and then at Mikael. They both smile gratefully, and then let go of each other to link arms with you on either side.

 

“So, let’s get you upstairs eh? I can’t wait to watch Elias tear you to bits over dating his sister,” says Adam, winking at you.

 

You pretend to swallow heavily, winking back. “Do you think I’ll survive?”

 

“Barely,” Mikael says, grinning broadly, and then the three of you walk up the stairs, arm in arm. Just like old times.

  
  
  



	6. Chapter Five: Messing up together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yousef and Sana have their first fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> Asr: Afternoon prayer in Islam

**Sana**

****

**_Friday 28th May 2027_ **

****

Dating Yousef Acar turned out to be easier than you thought. You had a lot of difficult talks in the beginning, about boundaries and rules and expectations, but after over half a year, you are definitely still on track.

****

Yousef is very respectful of your religion and has learned not to walk on eggshells around you anymore. He asks critical questions, challenging you and learning more about your beliefs. You in turn have learned to ask for space when you need it, be it to pray or to spend time with your friends or alone.

****

You’re still living with Eva and Noora, and Yousef moved in with Adam, Mutta, Mikael and Elias. Somehow, yours and Yousef’s friend groups have grown together, and it’s not seldom that all fourteen of you hang out.

****

Vilde and Eva have started dating only two weeks after you gave Eva’s number to Vilde. As you suspected, Vilde fits right into your group, and you haven’t seen Eva this happy in a long time. Noora and Jonas have finally gone on an official date last week, and judging by Noora’s flushed face when she came back, you’re assuming it went well.

****

So all in all, life is pretty great. But today is a bad day. You know it from the moment you get up too late in the morning because you forgot to set an alarm. That never happens, and you hate having to hurry in the morning more than anything.

****

You arrive at work on time after all, just out of breath. Your first patient is late, luckily, so you have a moment to catch your breath before starting the day. Checking your phone, you find- no good morning text from Yousef. It’s not that he sends one every day, but today you could have really used one. He usually gets up about an hour later than you, shortly before you start work, so he sometimes sends you a little reminder that he’s awake now, too and wishes you a good day.

****

His knee healed well, but it was still not clear whether he would ever be able to dance professionally again. But in the meantime, Yousef has found a decent alternative: He got a job at his old dance studio, like Mahdi and Eva. And in his free time, he helps Adam come up with choreographies for his live shows.

****

Adam has become really successful in the past year, playing gigs all over Scandinavia and even other parts of Europe. While Adam was afraid at first that making his relationship with Mikael public could hurt his career, pretty much the opposite happened: Adam has become known as the first openly gay rapper in Norway, which has made him an icon for the LGBTQ+ community. And of course, he is really good- even you like listening to his music, and you’re pretty picky.

****

On your break, you complain to Yousef via text that your day is going to unusually long since you have to finish up some office work. It’s Ramadan anyway, so you’re not going to be able to eat before eleven o'clock, so you might as well distract yourself a bit. Yousef replies with a thumbs-up, nothing more, which isn’t unusual for a work day.

****

Finally, at four o’clock, you dismiss your last patient and get ready to go home. You feel exhausted and can’t wait to go home and shower. You sit down on the bench at the bus stop, letting out a long sigh. But just when you’re about to pull out your phone, someone says your name.

****

“Sana? Is that you?”

****

Turning around, you see Sabrina, your former teammate from your basketball club. “Sabrina, hey,” you say, forcing a smile. Any other day, you would have been happy to see her, but today, any human interaction seems like too much.

****

Sabrina hugs you and then holds you at an arm’s length, looking at you in wonder. “How have you been?” she wants to know.

****

You give her a quick rundown of your current status, telling her about the job at the University hospital and that no, you’re not playing basketball anymore, only in your free time with friends.

****

“That’s too bad. I was sure you were going to be Norway’s first muslim player, you know,” Sabrina says, and her words cut deep. You can hear the disapproval in her voice, and although things like that don’t get to you easily, your former teammate’s remark makes you wish you could bury yourself in bed for days.

****

“I’m happy the way things are,” you say defensively, and to your great relief, your bus arrives just at that moment, giving you an excuse to say goodbye to Sabrina. “See you around, maybe?” you tell her, forcing another smile and hoping that you never see her again.

****

“Sure,” Sabrina says, a weak smile of her own curling her lips, but the rest of her expression shows something resembling pity. And there is nothing you hate more than being pitied.

****

The uneasy feeling in your stomach doesn’t go away, and by the time you reach your apartment, you’re relieved that no one else is home yet. Pulling out your phone, you see that you have a new message from Yousef. Smiling to yourself, you open it.

****

**_Yousef <3_ **

****

_Hey babe, did I leave my jacket_

_at your place the other day? I_

_can’t find it._

****

Your heart sinks. Of course, you know you can’t expect Yousef to know what’s going on in your head and what a crappy day you’ve had. But still, it doesn’t help that instead of his usual sweet texts all you get is a question about his stuff- that he leaves lying around everywhere, by the way.

****

Going to the living room you spot Yousef’s denim jacket hanging over one of the dining room chairs and type a reply with a deep sigh.

****

_Yeah, it’s in our living room. Wanna_

_come get_ _it?_

****

Yousef replies almost instantly.

****

_Phew, yes, thanks. I’ll be there soon._

****

 

Still, no question about how your day was or anything. Maybe you’re expecting too much, but somehow you feel like Yousef should pick up on it when you’re having a bad day.

He arrives about half an hour later, just when you’ve changed into grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. You buzz him in and wait at the front door, not sure whether or not you should tell Yousef about your day.

The moment you see Yousef, you know something’s wrong. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and a white hoodie, and no snapback for once. His entire body language shows that his day can’t have been much better than yours.

Yousef flashes you a weak smile when he sees you and pulls you into a long hug. “Hey Sana,” he breathes, sounding tired and sad.

“Hey,” you reply, moving your head back to look at your boyfriend. He’s still trying to smile, but you’d rather he’d just tell you what’s on his mind.

“I wish I could stay, but I’m meeting Mahdi, Eva and Eskild for dinner later. Are you coming?” Yousef asks, but the second the last word leaves his mouth, he makes a face. “Sorry, I forgot … It’s Ramadan. Too bad.”

He sounds disappointed, and you know you should ask what’s wrong, but right now, you just feel hurt. Yousef knows you’re fasting, just last night you complained to him that waiting for Iftar was killing you.

Pursing your lips, you say nothing, biting back an unfair remark. But Yousef notices.

“Sorry, I just … It’s a pity you can’t eat with us today, that’s all,” he says, and all you hear is ‘you’re a disappointing girlfriend.’

So before you can stop yourself, you take two steps back and turn away. “No, I’m sorry, Yousef. I’m sorry that my religion is ruining your plans,” you spit, much more forcefully than you intended.

You hear Yousef suck in a breath. “What?” he says, and you can tell he’s hurt, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you even care what Ramadan is about for me? I know it’s been a while, but you used to tell me you still care about the traditions! This is … hard enough as it is!”

The words break out of you before you can stop them and you have to bite your lip to keep from saying more unfair things.

But the damage is done.

“You think I don’t care? All I _do_ is care, Sana! I don’t eat in front of you for a month, I pick you up at the mosque to walk you home although my knee has been acting up again, and I don’t question your religion. What more do you want from me?” Yousef is yelling now, sounding angry. You’ve never seen him angry, and it’s scaring the shit out of you.

Still, you promised yourself never to lie just because it’s easier. However, you do choose your next words more carefully, although you’re still yelling.

“I just … I feel so alone, sometimes, Yousef! It sometimes feels like you’re judging me for believing in a God you don’t believe in, like you think I’m stupid.” You hate your voice when you’re yelling, but all that frustration has to go somewhere. You feel you’ll choke on it otherwise.

Letting out a low groan, Yousef covers his face with both hands and then looks at you again. His expression is hard, unforgiving and angry. “ _You_ feel alone? At least you have your mum, your dad and your brothers who believe the same thing you believe! I’m the only atheist in my family, do you have any idea how stupid _I_ feel? They try to be accepting but I know they think I’m going to hell. At least your family don’t expect you to become a murdering psychopath at any given moment!”

Yousef’s voice is croaky now, and for a moment, you just stare at him. You’ve never heard him speak of his family like that. Which is why, as angry as you are, you can’t help but feel bad for him.

But still, you’re about to tell him that this is about how he treats you and not about his freaking family. But then, you see a tear glistening in his eye, and you can’t yell at him anymore, especially when you feel tears welling up behind your eyes as well.

Usually, you swallow your sadness and don’t let a single tear spill over until there is at least one locked door between you and anyone else. You try to do that now too, clearing your throat and mumbling that you need a minute, but then Yousef’s eyes find yours.

For a moment, you can’t look away. You’re not sure what you expected to see in Yousef’s eyes: Anger, sadness, or even worse … pity. But instead, his eyes are full of fear.

You’re not sure what to think of that, but you know you can’t keep looking at him without crying. So you turn away, walking off towards your room.

“Sana, wait,” you hear Yousef’s voice behind you. He sounds like someone stepped on his throat a moment ago. And before you have time to slam the door shut, he slips into your room behind you.

You can’t look at him. Not when your eyes are burning with tears. Covering your face with both palms, you take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of yourself.

Thankfully, Yousef knows better than to touch you. But you can hear him pacing, breathing in as if he were about to say something, only to think better of it and let out a quiet groan instead. A part of you hopes he will leave while another desperately wants him to stay, to ask why you were so unfair, why you yelled at him. You have never yelled at each other before.

But then, a quiet sob tears through the silence, making your head snap up.

****

 

Yousef is crouching down, hands covering his face, his shoulders shaking. And that’s it. You can’t hold the tears back anymore. Crying silently, you approach Yousef, kneeling down in front of him. You hesitate for a moment before leaning forward and putting your arms around him.

He flinches, but then he leans his head on your shoulder and wraps both arms around your waist, pulling you close. You don’t usually allow him to hold you like that, but right now, your boyfriend is hurting, and you want it to stop.

“I’m sorry, Yousef,” you breathe into his hair while rubbing his back with both palms. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

You feel Yousef shake his head. “No, Sana, it’s not you. I just …” He suddenly groans in pain, slipping to the floor. Letting go of him, you feel like slapping yourself for forgetting about his knee: Yousef isn’t supposed to be crouching, let alone for over a minute.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, moving back to grab a pillow from your bed. Yousef is leaning against your desk, wiping his face with both palms. He lets you slip the pillow under his knee, watching you intently.

“You were crying,” he murmurs, making you look up at him. He looks thunderstruck, and not in a good way. His cheeks are tear-streaked, and you wish you could laugh it off, make him smile again.

Instead, you feel new tears running down your face. “I never cry,” you whisper, trying to grin at him. However, Yousef just shakes his head and opens his arms, raising both eyebrows at you in question.

Letting out half a laugh, half a sob, you move over to his right side and lean your head against his shoulder. Yousef wraps his arms around your middle, taking a deep breath.

“Can we start again?” he asks softly, pressing a kiss to your hijab. You nod against his shoulder, taking a deep breath. “How was your day?” Yousef goes on then, gently disengaging himself from you.

You hesitate for a moment but then finally look up at him. He’s already seen your tears, so there’s not point in hiding your face.

Pursing your lips, you wipe your cheeks with your sleeve and then clear your throat. “Uh … it sucked, to be honest.”

Yousef makes a face, leaning his forehead against yours. “Tell me everything,” he says quietly, before moving back to look into your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you sit up a little straighter and start talking. You tell Yousef about the forgotten alarm, the annoying patient you had before lunch, and you even dare tell him how sad you were that he didn’t send you a good-morning text. Yousef doesn’t interrupt you, never taking his eyes off your face. When you tell him about Sabrina and her hurtful remark however, he lets out a low growl, making you smile at him.

“I can’t stand people who think they know what's best for others,” he says forcefully, and you feel your heartbeat speed up. Yousef not only understands why Sabrina’s comment hurt you but he also shares your anger at her. You can’t quite describe what that feels like,but it's a good feeling.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, reaching out to take Yousef's hand.  He caresses your fingers with his own, smiling gently.

“You’re so welcome. I hate that you had such a horrible day,” he says, and cups your face with one hand.

“What about you?” you ask, running a hand up along his arm to rest it on his neck.

Yousef bites his lower lip and hesitates for a moment. “Okay, so … you already know about my knee.”

Nodding darkly, you gently rub your boyfriend’s shoulder with your thumb. “I still can’t believe it.”

Earlier that week, Yousef had gone to see his physical therapist. You couldn’t keep treating him once the two of you started dating, so you referred him to a former schoolmate of yours, a guy called Simen. He works in a group practice downtown, close to where Yousef lives. Simen is a good therapist, but just like any other, he can’t work miracles.

So that’s why, during the last appointment with Simen, Yousef got the worst news imagineable. He is never going to be able to dance professionally again. His cruciate ligament has recovered, but it’s too fragile to endure the strain of daily training and performances. Yousef’s professional dance career is over.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but it does feel like I wasted six years living a life that wasn't even mine only to end up losing the only thing I'm good at,” Yousef goes on, his eyes filling up with tears again.

Shaking your head, you cup his face with both hands, making him look at you. “Babe, I know this sounds kind of corny, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. And don’t tell me you hated every minute of the six years with ‘Veritas,’ I don’t believe that for a second.” You raise both eyebrows at him, daring him to contradict.

Yousef exhales deeply and shakes his head. “I didn’t hate everything, no,” he admits. “But I did leave everyone behind, my family, my friends … _you_.” He purses his lips and then adds: “Sometimes it feels like my accident was the just punishment for my mistakes.”

You shake your head again and pull him into a hug. “Don’t think that,” you murmur into his ear as Yousef wraps both arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. “I mean, yeah, it was an asshole move to just up and leave like that, I can’t lie. But you came back to face us, although you were sure we all hated you. That took courage, you know? And don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been helping Adam with the choreographies for his music videos, and I also know you are doing the best you can to support the others as well.”

Moving your head back, you wait for Yousef to look up at you before you go on. “Besides, you’ll still be able to dance! I hate that you can’t do it the way you used to, I really do.” You smile encouragingly at him, letting go of his face to pat his shoulders. “But you’re too amazing to not find something else to do with your talent, babe. Something that makes you just as happy.”

For a moment, Yousef just stares at you. But then he finally shakes his head as if he didn’t believe what he just heard. “You just called me babe.Twice. You never call me babe.”

That makes you laugh. “Seriously? That’s all you got from all that? From that whole speech?”

Yousef giggles. “You call that a speech? That was so much more than just a speech, _babe_.”

Both of you laugh at that, but then you sigh deeply at the same time. “We should talk more, shouldn’t we?” you say then, interlocking your hands on the back of your neck and staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

When you look back at Yousef, he’s nodding with a gentle smile. “Yes, we should. I’m not … the best at talking, but ..”

“Me neither,” you interject, making both of you chuckle.

“We should talk about what’s actually going on, though.” Yousef watches you carefully for a moment before going on. “You know, what I said about my family … it wasn’t fair, but still true. I do feel left out sometimes. Even you share their religion, but I don’t.” He bites his lower lip and takes a deep breath.

You smile encouragingly at him and take one of his hands in yours. “I get it. I feel that way around my non-religious friends, I guess it must be similar?”

Yousef nods slowly, caressing your palm with his thumb. “It’s not that I’m longing to be able to believe. I just sometimes feel that nothing connects me to my family.”

Squeezing his hand, you clear your throat. “You do have something you share with your family though.”

Frowning slightly, Yousef gives you a curious smile. “I do?”

“Yeah.” You let out a short laugh. “Don’t laugh at me, but … you’re all dancers, in a way.” Yousef giggles but doesn’t interrupt you. “Your mother always dances when she is cooking, even singing along to the songs on the radio. Your father does the same whenever he gets good news or is having a great day. And your sister … she would spend every minute of her free time dancing with you if she wasn’t afraid it would make her look uncool in front of her friends.”

Yousef is staring at you now. For a moment you’re worried he thinks you’re crazy. But then his hands are at the sides your face, his thumbs caressing your temples and the look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. “I … I never thought about it like that,” he murmurs, his eyes roaming your face and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to kiss you.

The two of you have reached an agreement about that problem shortly after you began dating. For you it has always been clear that you don’t want to share too much physical intimacy before marriage. But you also understand that Yousef doesn’t feel the same way, although he of course respects your wishes. So the two of you have come up with a rule. You both tell each other whenever you feel the desire to do something that would violate your personal boundaries. That doesn’t make the desires go away, but it keeps them in check.

So you’re not surprised when you hear Yousef’s next words. “Damn, I really, really want to kiss you right now Sana,” he croaks, sounding wrecked, and you have to close your eyes for a moment.

“I know. Me too,” you whisper back, eyes still closed. The two of you take a few deep breaths together, waiting for both your heartbeats to slow down. And when you look at him again, Yousef is smiling gratefully.

“Just for the record: Don’t ever tell me you don’t make speeches, Sana,” he says and lets go of you, leaning back against your desk with a smug grin.

You let out a joyful laugh and then purse your lips, watching Yousef for a long moment. “You know, what you said about your family making you feel left out … I feel like that too sometimes, and not just with my friends.”

Yousef watches you carefully but doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to go on. Letting out a shivering breath, you force yourself to look into his eyes. “I know you respect my faith … But sometimes when you ask a critical question on a day when I am doubting myself ... It doesn’t make things easier.”

You lean back against your bed, sighing deeply, but Yousef sits up straight, taking your right hand in both of his. “We could agree on a safe word or something,” he suggests, winking at you. “Or you could just … tell me to shut up when I’m asking questions on a bad day.”

Giggling shortly, you nod at him. “I promise I will be more honest about how I feel … although I really suck at that.” The words come out hesitantly, and Yousef doesn’t reply right away.

He watches you carefully for a moment and nods slowly, a serious look on his face. “I just never EVER want to make you cry again. That was scary.”

You chuckle quietly at that. “That’s nice of you, but I think ... “ Taking a deep breath, you reach for Yousef’s hand and look into his eyes. “I think this won’t be our last fight.”

Yousef makes a face, squeezing your fingers. “I’m afraid you’re right.” He sighs deeply and then lifts your hand to his cheek. “Still, I never want to yell at you again.”

He turns your hand around and smiles at you before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, making you giggle happily.

“Likewise,” you whisper, and you’re about to add that Yousef should get going if he wants to be on time for dinner with his colleagues when your phone buzzes twice in a row.

You dig it out of your pocket and see two new messages: one from Isak and one from Even. “Oh gosh, I totally forgot,” you call out excitedly, making Yousef frown. “Isak … he wanted to propose to Even today!”

“Damn, I completely forgot about that too,” Yousef laughs, reaching into the front pouch of his hoodie to get his phone out as well.

You open Isak’s message first.

****

**_Isak_ **

****

_It is done :-)_

****

You would roll your eyes at Isak’s cryptic message, but luckily, you have another one.

****

**_Even_ **

 

__

_!!!!!!!!!!!_

****

You hear Yousef shout out a cheerful “HAH!” and then he turns his phone in his hand to show you his screen. You see the group chat of all seven boys where Even just sent the same picture and even more exclamation marks.

****

“Isak wasn’t messing around,” you say incredulously, and Yousef nods slowly with wide eyes.

****

“He really wasn’t.”

****

You quickly type “Congratulations, Even!” to Even and “I guess that means I owe you coffee tomorrow” to Isak and then put your phone on your bed, getting to your feet.

****

“Come on, have some tea before you have to go,” you tell Yousef, who instantly puts his phone away and looks up at you with a slow smile.

****

He lets you pull him up and holds on to your elbows once he’s standing. For a moment he just looks into your eyes, still smiling like a fool.

****

“What?” you ask, holding back a giggle. Yousef has a way of looking at you that makes you simultaneously want to run away and never move again.

****

“Nothing, I’m just … I can’t believe how lucky I am sometimes.” Yousef’s words provoke you to make a joke, but the look in his eyes leaves you no choice but to believe him.

****

“I … I feel very lucky too,” you reply, holding his gaze with a warm smile.

****

Yousef grins smugly, making you roll your eyes, however you can’t stop smiling at him. He then lets go of you and you turn around to lead him to the kitchen.

****

“What are you up to for tonight?” he asks, walking over to the cupboard to get a glass while you get the plastic jug full of self-made peppermint tea from the fridge.

****

“I’m hoping Noora will come home today,” you say, setting down the jug on the table in front of Yousef as he takes a seat.

****

He makes a face. “How long has she been dating Jonas now?”

****

“Two weeks, I think.” You let out an amused giggle and sit down across from your boyfriend. “I still can’t believe he turned out to be Isak’s best friend.”

****

Noora had taken a long time to finally start talking to Jonas via text, but once she did, she couldn’t stop. But still, it took her another three months to finally agree to go out with him - she claimed it was because ‘I met him on a trip, Sana. Things are different when you’re not at home, I’m sure he won’t like me as much once he meets me here in Oslo.’ But of course, she was wrong.

****

“Yeah, and that Isak didn’t say anything,” Yousef adds, taking a big gulp of tea. “He told us yesterday that he urged Jonas to ask Noora out once he found out who she was, without telling him he knew her.” He shakes his head with an amused grin. “He’s such a snake sometimes.”

****

“Tell me about it, I went to school with the guy,” you tell him, rolling your eyes, however grinning fondly at the same time.

****

“Says the woman who got a stranger’s phone number for her roommate,” Yousef chuckles, making you gasp in feigned shock.

****

“Vilde told me she’s interested in Eva, that’s different! Plus, it really turned out well, didn’t it?” you reach across the table to cover Yousef’s hand with your own.

****

He laces your fingers together, taking another sip of tea and nodding slowly. “It really did. Those two are almost as cute as Isak and Even.”

****

Clearing your throat, you raise both eyebrows at Yousef, grinning confidently. “I agree. If I meddle, I do so successfully. Also, speaking of meddling: I still refuse to believe you had no role whatsoever in getting Mutta to ask out his boss.”

****

Now it’s Yousef turn to let out a fake gasp. “Sana, how dare you! I would never …” he burst out laughing at your unimpressed grimace. “Fine, okay, you’re right, I may have … told him he has nothing to lose,” he concedes, making you punch the air with a vindictive “Hah!”

****

“But it was worth it,” Yousef continues, grinning like a child who remembers a well-pulled off prank. “Mutta and Chris are meant to be! Have you met her? She laughs at his jokes, do you know how rare a find she is?”

****

Both of you burst into giggles at that, and you suddenly feel giddy with happiness at the thought of how much love you have in your life.

****

Both your roommates have started dating truly good people - although you’re not completely sure about Jonas yet. But you will question Noora about him later. Also, if her constant smile is anything to go by, you have nothing to worry about. Two of your best friends just got engaged. Sure, you also just had the first fight with your boyfriend, but you can’t help but feel that it will end up bringing the two of you closer together.

****

Mutta, a guy who has always been like a brother to you, has found the courage to ask out the manager of the supermarket he works at. For months, he’s been talking about Chris, about how much she makes him laugh and the spark in her eye whenever she talks about her favourite horror movies. And last week, he finally asked her to have dinner with him, and she not only said yes but also suggested ‘the best burger place in the city, they even have halal meat there!’

You haven’t met her yet, but what you’ve heard so far makes you confident you’ll have no problems getting along with her. Hearing from Isak that apparently, Chris went to school with Vilde and is still good friends with her further confirmed

****

Elias’s business is really taking off now that Adam’s popularity is growing. Being the wonderful person that he is, Adam decided to use his newfound fame to help Elias. He’s been talking to young talents he met after his concerts and asking them to hire Elias as their manager. And of course, Yousef is using his connections to Norway’s Hip Hop scene to get Elias’s name out there as well. The last time both of you were at your parents’ place, Elias actually complained about having too many new requests from promising young talents.

****

“Alhamdulillah,” you say quietly, looking up at Yousef again to find him smiling fondly at you.

****

“Please tell me you’re not thanking God  for the fight we just had,” Yousef says softly, caressing your palm with his thumb.

****

Shaking you head, you smile back and squeeze his fingers. “No. I’m grateful for everything that’s going right.”

****

Yousef nods slowly and then gets to his feet, however not letting go of your hand. “You’re right. I don’t have that much to complain about.”

****

“That’s not what I meant, Yousef,” you hurry to say, following him out into the hallway. “It’s awful that your knee is ruining your life, I hate it.” You make sure Yousef is looking into your eyes before you go on. “But I … I know it sounds stupid, but … I believe that for everything that goes wrong in your life, something else will go really well, if you know what I mean.”

****

Yousef thinks for a moment and then cups the side of your face with his free hand, smiling gently. “I love that about you,” he murmurs softly, making goosebumps spread all over your arms and legs. “And I know you’re right. I just have to believe it.”

****

“You could always take that class to become a professional choreographer. I looked it up, there are schools who offer it here in Oslo.” You smile encouragingly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’d be great at that!”

****

Nodding slowly, Yousef leans his forehead against yours. “Thank you for believing in me.”

****

Both of you close your eyes for a moment, and then Yousef adds: “I may have fucked up my knee, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting it fuck up everything else.”

The second the last word leaves his mouth, he makes a face. “Ugh, I sound like a freaking fortune cookie.”

****

You laugh out loud, letting go of his shoulder to take both his hands in yours. Yousef laughs as well, but then his expression becomes serious again. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his fingers and smile at him. “How’s this: From now on, we’ll be … messing up together, okay?” You manage to hold back the curse word at the last second. During Ramadan, you try to keep cursing to a minimum.

****

A bright smile lights up Yousef’s face and he nods slowly before pulling you into a hug. “Now that …” he breathes at your shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle. “That sounds like a plan.”

****

A few minutes later, you’re lying on your bed, unable to stop grinning. Who knew that the shittiest day of the month could end like this? Closing your eyes, you say a little prayer, thanking God for giving you a different perspective on a day you hated from the first second.

****

You hear your phone buzzing from where you left it at the foot of your bed and sit up, reaching for it.

****

It’s Noora. With an exasperated sigh, you pick up.

****

“Don’t tell me you’re not coming home?” you say in a reproachful tone.

****

Noora giggles excitedly. “What makes you think that? I’m shopping right now, wondering if you feel like having Zaalouk for Iftar today?”

****

You can feel your mouth watering at the thought. “Stupid question, Noora,” you murmur, fighting back a giggle.

****

“Thought so,” Noora says matter-of-factly, clearing her throat. “So, Zaalouk and some of the bread I made yesterday, and then … Oh, do we still have some of the pastry your mum brought the other day?”

****

“If Eva hasn’t eaten everything, yeah,” you tell her, getting up from the bed. “Can you bring me some börek too? I haven’t had them in ages!”

****

Noora chuckles. “Someone is developing a taste for turkish food. I wonder where that comes from,” she teases, making you roll your eyes.

****

“I always liked Turkish food, what are you talking about?” you protest, however you can’t hold back a giggle.

****

“Mhm,” Noora says and you can hear the sounds of her picking items from various shelves.

****

“Fine, maybe Yousef’s cooking has a little bit to do with it …” you admit, making Noora laugh again. You ignore her though. “When will you be home?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of your bed again.

****

“In time to feed you at Iftar, Sana, no worries. I’ve got a ton to tell you.”

****

As always when Noora says that, she doesn’t leave it at the announcement: She tells you that Jonas introduced her to Magnus, his long-time friend, who is a professional photographer. The two of them have worked together on several of Jonas’s assignments already, and apparently Magnus is trying to start his own business. “He’s looking for people who want professional photos taken, and I think I have an idea. Do you think Even and Isak already have a wedding photographer?”

****

You laugh out loud at that, shaking your head and wishing you could hug Noora. She’s so incredibly sweet.

****

“Awh Noora, you’re cute. But you’re also too late.” You can almost hear Noora frowning at that. “The only reason Isak hasn’t asked Magnus yet is because Magnus can’t keep a secret. He would have blurted out to Even that Isak is planning to propose. I figured Jonas would know that?”

****

Noora groans and you see her scrunch up her nose in front of your inner eye. “Ah, I was too fast wasn’t I?” she says with a sigh making you laugh.

****

“A little,” you admit, giggling slightly. “Now hurry up and get here with my food.” You try to sound bossy but you don’t need Noora’s laugh to let you know you failed.

****

“Sana, it’s another three hours until Iftar, relax. I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” Noora chirps, making you groan and laugh at the same time.

****

“Don’t remind me. See you soon!” you tell her and then hang up the phone. You’ve been smiling for so long the corners of your mouth are starting to hurt.

****

Getting to your feet, you get your prayer mat from your closet. Twenty minutes is more than enough time to pray Asr. And today, you have a lot to be thankful for.


	7. Chapter Six: A party and a great decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even have some news. And Yousef has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> meleğim: Turkish for "my angel"
> 
> Halwa (Chebakia): Moroccan pastry with sesame seeds

**Yousef**

 

**_Thursday, 9th August 2029_ **

 

“Alright, guys that’s it, we’re done for today,” you call out to your last class. It’s a group of teenagers between the ages of twelve and fifteen, and today is the second time you’ve taught them. They’re all very motivated and sweet: almost everyone shakes your hand before leaving the studio. And although you’re struggling to remember everyone’s names, they don’t seem to mind.

 

“Ah, new classes, I love them,” you hear Eskild’s voice from the hallway as soon as your last student has walked out the door. And sure enough, a second later, his head appears in the doorframe. “They don’t have a reason to hate you yet,” he adds, winking at you.

 

“My students never hate me, Eskild,” you retort, picking up your towel and walking over to the stereo to get your CD.

 

Eskild sighs dramatically and walks into the studio, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “They just don’t tell you because you’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he chirps, watching you pack your CD into your sports bag.

 

“Shut up,” you tell him, feeling yourself blush. “I’m just … nice to them, that’s all.” You pick up your sports bag and wink at Eskild, who lets out an exaggerated gasp.

 

“How dare you, Acar! I'm nothing if not nice,” he exclaims, however grinning brightly at you. “So, are you and Sana coming to the party at Eva and Vilde’s place tomorrow?”

 

Putting an arm around Eskild, you lead him out of the studio. “Yeah, of course we’re coming! We’re gonna bring some self-made snacks.”

 

Eskild lets out a low chuckle, closing the door behind him, patting your shoulder. “I hope _you_ will be doing the baking, not Sana?”

 

Shaking off Eskild’s hand, you wave a warning finger in his face. “Hey, don’t insult my girlfriend. She may not be much of a cook, but she can bake like a pro.”

 

Laughing happily, Eskild nods approvingly at you. “The baker and the cook, our dream couple. I like it.”

 

Clicking your tongue, you shove his upper arm and open the door to the men’s dressing room. “I’m glad we have your approval.”

 

Eskild just shrugs and gives you his brightest smile. “You’re welcome, honey.”

 

A few minutes later, the two of you leave the school, hugging each other goodbye outside the front door. “See you tonight, yeah?” you ask and Eskild nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, I can’t wait to hear what Isak and Even want to tell us.” He pulls his hoodie over his head and then walks off in direction of the tram stop.

 

Looking after him, you can’t stop grinning to yourself. Eskild has worked here almost as long as Eva, and the two of them have been close friends from the first day. While Eva teaches urban and jazz dance, Eskild is a ballet instructor. Most of his students are children, and they all love him because he always takes the time to talk to them about their daily lives and give them advice. He and Eva often go out drinking together, but you know that their friendship is by no means only based on their shared love of alcohol. Whenever Eva has a fight with Vilde, Eskild is there, and Eskild always goes to Eva for advice about boys.

 

But the main reason you’re fond of Eskild is the way he treats Sana. Eva has been Sana’s best friend ever since they were children, and Sana’s faith was never an issue between them. However, Eva has always liked to drink, whereas Sana stays away from alcohol, and that’s why Sana was worried that Eskild would be a more interesting friend to Eva than her.

 

Eskild however put an end to Sana's worries the first time he met her. When Eva and Sana invited him to dinner, he brought his mother’s self-made elderflower syrup and spent a great deal of dinner discussing Arabic poetry with Sana. And from that day onward, the three of them were inseparable.

 

Your trip down memory lane is interrupted by ann incoming text. Digging your phone out of your pocket, you start walking towards the bus stop around the corner.

 

**_Meleğim_ **

 

_Are you done at work? Wanna come_

_over?_

 

Smiling at your screen, you type  a quick reply.

 

_On my way. Do we need to bring something?_

 

Sana’s reply is instant.

 

_Mamma and I made Halwa_

 

_For tomorrow or tonight?_

 

_More like for the next ten years._

 

That makes you laugh. Of course Meryem would make sure Sana had more than enough food for her friends. She’s always worried that the people she cares about don’t eat properly, or at least not enough. And you suspect that when Sana told her the two of you were visiting Isak and Even tonight, Meryem decided to make an extra portion of her amazing Halwa Chebakia. She loves them both to bits and since they’re both rather tall and lanky, she always assumes they don’t eat enough.

 

Your bus arrives and you get on it, leaning against the window while typing a reply.

 

**_Meleğim_ **

 

_There is no such thing as too much Halwa._

_Especially when your mother makes it._

 

The second you hit send, you know what Sana will reply. And sure enough:

 

_Ey, I helped!_

 

Grinning happily, you purposefully wait a moment before replying.

 

                                                              How could I forget? 

 

_Shut up_

 

Giggling to yourself, you can almost see Sana rolling her eyes at her phone and suddenly can’t wait to see her.

 

You arrive outside her building a few minutes later. Ringing the doorbell labelled “S. Bakkoush, E. Kviig Mohn, N. Sætre” you wonder if Meryem is still there. You haven’t seen her in a while and if Noora and Eva are home, you might get a chance to talk to her about something you’ve had on your mind for a while …

 

“Hello Yousef,” you hear Meryem’s voice over the intercom a second later, smiling to yourself.

 

“Hi Meryem,” you call back and push open the door, taking three steps at a time on your way up the stairs. Thankfully, your knee has recovered well enough for you not to have any issues with walking up stairs. You can’t climb up twenty floors every day, but generally, you don’t have major problems with your knee.

 

The door of the apartment is open and you meet Noora in the hallway. “Hey there,” she says cheerfully and give you a brief hug. “Are you ready for dinner at the Bech Næsheim’s?”

 

“Yeah, I guess. Do you have any idea why they invited all of us?” you ask her while toeing off your shoes, but Noora just shrugs.

 

“Nope. Those two are good at keeping secrets.” She points towards the kitchen and adds: “Sana, Eva and Meryem are in there.”

 

“Thanks, see you in a bit I guess?” you tell her and Noora nods with a smile before disappearing into her room.

 

Dropping your sports bag next to your shoes, you walk into the kitchen to find Sana, Meryem and Eva laughing and chatting while doing the dishes. The room is filled with the smell of freshly baked Halwa Chebakiah, making your mouth water in anticipation.

 

“Hello,” you say shyly, turning to Meryem first. “I hear you are making sure we don’t show up with empty hands at Isak and Even’s tonight.”

 

Meryem laughs warmly and shakes your outstretched hand. “Hello Yousef, it’s good to see you. I just wanted to spend some time with Sana and Eva.” She winks at you and adjusts her olive green hijab, turning around to put an arm around Eva. “Those two keep me young,” she adds, making Eva giggle.

 

“You _are_ young, Meryem,” she says, poking Meryem’s cheek with her finger. “Hey,” she adds in your direction, walking over to hug you.

 

“I agree,” you tell Meryem and then wink at Sana, who’s watching the three of you from where she’s standing by the sink with a content smile on her face.

 

She winks back, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her smile growing wider as you walk over to her. You put your arm around her and briefly squeeze her shoulder, whispering a soft “Hey,” into her ear. Sana leans into your touch but seems grateful that you don’t hold on to her: Whenever her mother is present, she’s more comfortable limiting physical contact to a minimum.

 

“So, is everyone ready for this evening?” Eva asks, her arm still wrapped around Meryem. “I wonder why Isak and Even are inviting everyone?”

 

“I already know,” Meryem says with a knowing grin, making everyone stare at her.

 

“Mamma, what?” Sana gapes at her mother, setting her arms akimbo. “How?”

 

“Even came over last week to make Baklava for his parents, and he ended up blurting it out.” Meryem giggles happily, looking around at Eva, Sana and you in turn. “Don’t worry, it’s very good news.”

 

Sana shakes her head while rolling her eyes. “Even can’t keep a secret from _you_ , it seems.” She tries to sound annoyed, but you can hear the fondness in her voice. As much as she tries to deny it, Sana is just as endeared by the deep friendship between Even and her mother.

 

Meryem chuckles contently and walks over to cup Sana’s cheek with one hand. “Why do you think the boys cancelled the coffee date they had with you and Yousef on Tuesday, Sana?” she says, a fond look on her face. “They can’t keep a secret from you either.”

 

Sana kisses her mother’s cheek and then turns around to face Eva. “We should go get changed, don’t you think?”

 

Eva nods, and turns to hug Meryem. “I guess I will see you soon? Say hello to Said for me.”

 

Meryem nods and kisses Eva’s forehead. “Yes, I will. Bye Eva.”

 

You take the opportunity to announce that you’re going to change into less casual clothes, briefly squeezing Meryem’s shoulder and giving her a meaningful look. By the time you reach the bathroom, your heart is in your throat. You still manage to take off your hoodie and t-shirt and dig your favourite dark blue dress shirt out of your sports bag.

 

Taking a deep breath, you look at yourself in the mirror while buttoning up the shirt, and just when you’re about to panic that Meryem didn’t get the message, there’s a knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” you say as casually as possible and Meryem pokes her head inside, a curious expression on her face.

 

“Do you need help with that shirt?” she asks, and you nod quickly, motioning for her to come in and close the door.

 

Meryem does just that and puts both hands on your shoulders. “It looks good already, Yousef,” she says quietly, waiting for you to say why you really called her in here.

 

“I know. Uh … I wanted to ask you something.” Your voice is shaking, but your mind is made up. So you take another deep breath and turn to look into Meryem’s eyes. “Do you think I could come by your place some time this week? I need to talk to Said about … something important.”

 

Watching Meryem’s face for a reaction, you’re surprised to see her frown. “Yousef, if you’re thinking about asking my husband for permission to propose to my daughter… don’t,” she says, making your heart sink.

 

“Meryem, I know I’m not muslim, but Sana and I are really making it work and I think…” you begin, but Meryem shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

 

“Shush, Yousef, that’s not what I mean.” Her voice is soft and soothing, helping your heartbeat slow down. “I know you’re good for Sana, and both me and Said would never oppose you becoming her husband.”

 

Her words reach your ears, but it takes a long moment for you to realise what Meryem is saying. “Wh… what?” you finally croak, staring at your future mother in law through the mirror.

 

Meryem smiles and nods slowly. “Said and I … we love Sana a lot, as you know, and it’s clear that you do too. And since the two of you have been together for almost three years without her ever having a crisis of faith, I have no doubt that being with you is right for her.”

 

“That’s ...” you clear your throat and blink a few times, trying to get a hold of yourself. “That’s awesome, but … isn’t it tradition that I ask Said for his permission?”

 

Sighing deeply, Meryem shrugs. “Said would laugh if you asked him, to be honest. He’s always been like that.” Letting out a soft chuckle, she steps back and leans against the wall, a fond smile on her lips. “When he asked me to marry him, I said yes and wanted to know what my father said about it. Said just snorted and said he didn’t know, and why I think he should have asked my father. ‘You’re the one who’s stuck with me for the rest of her life. Why would your father have a say in it?’ he said.”

 

That makes you laugh. You should have known. Turning around, you smile happily at Meryem, feeling your heartbeat speed up again. But this time, it’s not an uncomfortable thumping in your chest, but a frantic drumroll, getting you excited for what is to come.

 

“So you think I should ask her?” you say quietly, and Meryem’s face lights up with the gorgeous smile Sana inherited from her.

 

“Yes, Yousef. I think you should ask Sana to marry you.”

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

About half an hour later, you, Sana, Eva and Noora leave the girls’ apartment together. Noora and Eva are both wearing black dress pants and pretty blouses- Noora’s is a shiny blue one that matches her red lipstick, Eva’s a bright green one- but as always, Sana is the one who really takes your breath away.

 

Your girlfriend is wearing white dress pants and a wide blue summer blouse with flared sleeves. Her white hijab is decorated with a stitched border in black thread, and her black high-heels make her almost as tall as you. On the way to the tram stop, you can’t take your eyes off her, which almost causes you to walk head-first into a street lamp, making Eva and Noora giggle.

 

“Are you okay?” Sana asks, squeezing your hand and flashing you an amused smile.

 

“Fine,” you say quickly, raising your joint hands to kiss Sana’s knuckles. “You just look incredible, that’s all.”

 

Sana blushes and shrugs, giggling excitedly. “Even said it was a festive occasion, so …”

 

“You always look gorgeous, though,” you tell her, squeezing her hand again and then looking ahead. Noora and Eva have already reached the tram stop, where Jonas is waiting. He cups Noora’s face and kisses her before hugging Eva, asking her how she’s doing. He looks nice in his jeans and polo shirt, his curly hair tied into a neat bun at the back of his neck.

 

For a moment, you can’t help but marvel at how happy he and Noora are together. They’ve been dating for almost as long as you and Sana, and because you spend a lot of time at the kollektiv, you know that it took Noora a while to trust Jonas as much as she does. You don’t know what exactly happened with her ex, but you do know that he hurt her badly. But Jonas proved time and time again that he would do anything to make Noora happy. You guess it doesn’t hurt that he calls himself a feminist and openly voices his opinions without ever drowning out Noora’s own.

 

A few months ago, you and Noora were cooking for Eva and Sana, and while the other two set the table, you asked about her work. Noora told you that both she and Jonas were very concerned about the refugee crisis. They were both involved in a project providing legal help to refugees in Norway. Noora smiled fondly when she told you that Jonas was using every connection he had to get people to publish his articles about how badly refugees were being treated in Turkey and how important it was for Norway to be one of the countries who really tries to help.

And before you knew it, you asked Noora if she was happy with Jonas. Noora nodded slowly, and when told her you’re glad and that you’re very happy with Sana as well, she pondered for a long moment before adding: “He’s like patience and warmth personified, you know. When I’m with him, I feel like I’m home, and I’ve never had that with a guy before.”

Noora blushed after that, but the smile on her face let you know she was serious. And although it was awkward, you felt proud that Noora trusted you enough to tell you something like that.

 

A loud squeal pulls you back to reality, and without looking, you know that Vilde has arrived. Sana chuckles quietly next to you, pointing towards Eva, who is running towards her girlfriend with open arms. “They saw each other this morning, you know,” Sana murmurs, shaking her head.

 

You smile too, watching Vilde throw her arms around Eva. They kiss hungrily, giggling in between and holding on to each other as if they had been separated for weeks.

 

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” you laugh and Sana joins in, linking her arm with yours.

 

“They’re happy though, so that’s good,” she says warmly, and the fond expression on her face sends a shiver down your spine.

 

But before you can do something stupid, you hear Eva call your and Sana’s name. “You guys are going to miss the tram, come on!”

 

Isak and Even have moved to Blindern on the edge of town after getting married. You and the boys like to tease them that they must be thinking of having kids soon, but they always laugh it off.

The tram ride takes about twenty minutes, but with all the laughs and eager conversations, you hardly notice how time passes. You and Sana sit down across from Eva and Vilde, who chat away about their planned holiday in Northern Finland in autumn. “We’ll have a tiny cottage all to ourselves for five days, isn’t that cosy?” Vilde squeals with joy, making Eva poke her girlfriend’s cheek with her finger.

 

“Yes it is, baby,” she agrees and Vilde turns her head to kiss Eva. “Where are you guys going for your next holiday?” Eva then adds, pointing at you and Sana.

 

“Probably Turkey, my mum wants to show us Adana, the city where she grew up,” you tell her without thinking. Mamma had talked about taking you and Sana to Adana, but it was tied to a condition: She would only take you if you and Sana were engaged. This was mamma’s way of motivating you to finally get up the courage to ask her, and luckily you remember just in time that Sana doesn’t know about that condition.

 

Sana nods slowly, watching you with eagle eyes. You smile at her, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel, and to your relief, Sana turns to Eva a moment later. “His mother is an awesome tour guide! Last year, she showed us around in Switzerland as if she’d lived there.”

 

You love the proud tone in Sana’s voice. She got along wonderfully with your mother from the first day she met her, but when the two of you started dating, they became even closer. Mamma liked to joke that she would adopt Sana if she wasn’t dating you, and although you pretend to be mad at her every time she says that, it secretly makes you happy how easily your mother accepted Sana as your girlfriend.

 

At Bislett, you all get off the tram and meet Mikael, Adam, Elias, Mutta, Chris, Magnus and Mahdi. The thirteen of you almost fill up the bus, and it feels as if you were all seventeen again, headed to a party on a Friday night. Except all of you are older, there is no drinking on public transport involved, and the place you’re headed to isn’t a kollektiv but the home of a married couple.

 

“What’s in your bag, El?” Jonas asks, pointing at the blue plastic bag in Elias’ hand.

 

Elias chuckles and licks his lips. “I think whatever the reason Even and Isak invited all of us over, it must be a reason to celebrate,” he announces and pulls a bottle of alcohol-free sparkling wine from the bag.

 

Everyone cheers and Adam bumps Elias’ shoulder with his own. “You really think of everything, bro,” he chuckles, making Elias shrug with a self-satisfied grin.

 

“You know I do.” He winks at Mikael, who’s standing next to Adam, their hands intertwined. They’ve moved into their own place about six months ago, and although Mutta, Elias and you have been teasing them that they will get sick of each other rather quickly, you’re all glad that you were wrong. It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago, Adam wouldn’t have been caught dead holding a guy’s hand. Nowadays, he and Mikael are constant guests at LGBTQ+ events in Norway and other parts of Europe. And Adam being Adam, he keeps using his own popularity to help Mikki and the rest you build your own careers: He gave a short concert at Mikki’s first exhibition to draw a crowd, posed for advertising posters for the school where you, Eva and Mahdi teach, and even hired Mutta as his personal assistant when he got fired for dating his boss.

 

“Please tell me there’s actual booze as well,” you hear Chris groan from beside Mutta, making everyone chuckle. She’s leaning against him, playing with her thin silver necklace and eyeing the group one by one.

 

“I brought some wine,” Eva announces, pointing to her bag, and Chris raises her palm with a cheerful “YES.” Eva laughs and slaps her palm to Chris’. “Are we really that boring, Chris?” she then adds, making Chris stare at her with a guilty expression.

 

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” she hurries to say, and Mutta leans in to kiss her cheek and laces his fingers together with hers.

 

“She’s fucking with you, babe,” he mutters, making all of you laugh out loud.

 

At first, you and the rest of the boys were a little taken aback when Mutta started dating Chris. She’s very loud and outspoken, and completely different than the few other girls Mutta dated before her. But all of you quickly realised why Mutta was happy with Chris. She is honest and kind, and all of you have come to love the fact that Mutta is completely himself around her.

 

The bus stops outside of the university a short while later, and soon all thirteen of you are walking up the stairs in Even and Isak’s building. Sana squeezes your hands on the last flight of stairs, making you glance at her. You see the question in her eyes: _Why do you think we’re here?_

 

“No idea,” you whisper in her ear and kiss her beautiful white hijab. “But I’m glad I’m here with you.”

 

Sana emits a peel of laughter, leaning into your side and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Same,” she whispers and then puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from bumping into Mahdi. Eva and Vilde have reached Isak and Even’s landing and Vilde has just rung the doorbell.

 

A moment later, Eskild opens the door, to everyone’s surprise. “Hello children,” he calls happily and hugging Eva and Vilde at the same time. “Come in, come in, we are ready for you.”

 

You hear Isak groaning from the hallway, and then he and Even appear next Eskild.

 

“Just ignore him,” Isak grumbles with an eye-roll at Eskild, ushering Eva and Vilde inside and hugging Mahdi and Magnus.

Before you know it, all sixteen of you are sitting in the living room on cosy cushions around a big lounge table. It’s a tight fit, but it doesn’t matter: You’re all one big family anyway.

 

Everyone gasps at the sight of the table, and you can’t blame them: It’s laden with countless plates and bowls full of delicious-looking food. You’ve always known that Even is an amazing cook, but you’re pretty sure he’s outdone himself tonight.

 

“Is that a tagine?” exclaims Elias, pointing to a clay pot at the center of the table. And sure enough, it looks exactly like the one Meryem has, and you know that whatever is made in a tagine is bound to be very tasty.

 

“It is,” Even confirms, grinning at all of you while waiting for everyone to settle on the cushions. “I got quite a few recipes from your mom, El.”

 

“Thanks for the beer, Mahdi,” Isak pipes up then, making everyone’s heads snap up. Mahdi grins at Isak with a wink, bowing his head.

 

“You’re welcome, man. I knew there was going to be way too much sparkling wine around here for your taste.”

 

Isak snickers and Even glowers at his husband, however unable to hide a fond smile. “Even after two years of marriage, my husband still hasn’t learned to appreciate grown-up booze.” He walks over to Isak, who raises his eyebrows at him challengingly as they wrap their arms around each other’s waists.

 

“Who says beer isn’t for grown-ups?” Isak grumbles and lets Even kiss his cheek.

 

“Hear hear,” Chris calls out and Isak reaches out to bump his fist to hers.

 

Soon, everyone is holding a drink- you and Sana both opted for orange juice- and Isak and Even share a long look before simultaneously clearing their throats. Eskild raises his champagne glass and taps it with a knife, and by the look on his face you can tell he knows what’s coming.

 

Everyone falls silent and looks up at the two of them. You take Sana’s hand and try not to smile too hard at Even and Isak’s nervous expressions.

 

“So, I guess you’re all wondering why we invited everyone here tonight,” Even begins and wraps an arm around Isak’s waist.

 

Isak leans into Even and puts his arm around his husband as well, pursing his lips. “Obviously, we have some news, and obviously, my husband can’t just send an email to everyone.” He tries to sound annoyed, but fails miserably.

 

Even giggles and raises Isak’s chin with his finger to kiss him before going on. “We _both_ love a party as much as all of you, so that’s why you’re all here.”

He pulls Isak a little closer and they share another long look before Even takes a deep breath and stands up a little straighter. “We have kept this a secret because we didn’t want more people than necessary to be disappointed if it didn’t work … but just two days ago, we finally got good news.”

 

Isak lets out a cheerful laugh and he and Even look around at everyone before gazing into each other’s eyes again. And when they turn back to face the group, they open their mouths simultaneously.

 

“We are going to have a baby!”

 

For a moment, the room is quiet, and then Magnus clears his throat.

 

“How?” he asks, making Isak and Even laugh, and that startles everyone out of the shocked state you’re all in after that announcement.

 

The group erupts into cheer and whistles, and everyone gets to their feet. Soon, the future fathers are at the centre of a group hug, questions and congratulations flying at them from every direction. Both Isak and Even look blissfully happy, hugging people left and right, murmuring “thank you”s every few moments.

 

“I’m so happy for you, man,” you say into Even’s ear when you finally get a hold of him. Even chuckles a “Thank you” back and over his shoulder, you see Sana hugging Isak so tightly he complains she’s going to “break” him.

 

Finally, after everyone got to hug the parents to be, Isak and Even simultaneously wipe their eyes, and Isak clears his throat.

 

“As all of you- except Mags- know, neither Even nor I can get pregnant, so I guess we should explain.” He winks at Magnus, who is blushing a deep red and looks like he’s about to say something, but Isak is already going on. “We’re going to adopt a little girl from the Kongo. Even has pictures on his phone, so have him show you- I’m going to get a _beer_ to celebrate.” He rolls his eyes at his husband at the word “beer” but still presses a kiss to Even’s cheek before wandering off to the kitchen.

 

“Wait, what’s her name?” Eva pipes up, reaching for her champagne glass on the table.

 

Even smiles his brightest smile, looking around at everyone and then at Eva again. Clearing his throat, he straightens up a little before finally saying: “Malin. Her name is Malin Kitoko.”

 

Everyone coos and smiles, asking Even to explain, but then Isak appears behind him with a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Handing the glass to Even, he looks around the room.

 

“Does everyone have a glass?” he asks and when all of you confirm that by raising your glasses, Isak turns to Even, winking at him. “You’re better at toasts than me.”

 

Both of them laugh and Even nods, raising his glass, looking around at everyone. “To our sweet daughter, who isn’t here yet but will be soon. To Malin Kitoko Bech Næsheim.”

 

He tears up at the end, but the group erupts into cheers once again. Everyone raises their glasses and repeats the words: “To Malin Kitoko Bech Næsheim.” You catch Sana wiping a tear from the corner of her eye before taking a sip of her orange juice. She’s standing next to Eva and Vilde, and when her eyes meet yours, she smiles brightly at you. It’s been almost three years, but seeing her smile like that still sends warm shivers down your spine. You don't think that will ever change, nor do you want it to.

 

You all sit down and start eating Even’s delicious food while listening to Isak and Even explain the long and tedious process of adopting their little girl. They applied for an adoption about a year after getting married, and after filling out countless forms, passing lots of tests and interviews, they finally got the green light.

It turns out you and the boys weren’t wrong when teasing the two of them about the apartment they picked: Apart from the fact that it’s in a quiet neighbourhood and close to a kindergarten and a school, the place is big enough for two people and a child.

 

“So I guess that means you were kidding about making your office a game room?” Magnus asks, pointing to Isak, who rolls his eyes at him.

 

“Yeah, I was, did you want to see what it looks like now?” Isak winks at Even and Magnus gets to his feet, nodding excitedly.

 

Raising your eyebrows questioningly at Even, you’re not surprised to hear him call out to the entire group that you should go have a look at the baby’s room.

 

You shouldn’t be surprised, really, but when all fifteen of you squeeze into the room, Vilde isn’t the only one gasping with delight.

 

“Boys, this is wonderful,” Eva says, looking around at the light green walls and the matching furniture. The room is small, but the crib, changing table and wardrobe fit in nicely. At the window, facing outside stands an old looking rocking chair- you’d bet anything that Even was the one who bought it- complete with a sheep's skin and several comfortable pillows.

 

“Eskild helped,” Even announces, making Eskild blush slightly. “He picked the wall colour, because Isak and I couldn’t agree.”

 

“Someone had to show you kids how it’s done,” Eskild giggles, letting Even pull him into a one-armed hug. Everyone laughs at that, and one by one, the guests file out of the room to go back to their food. You’re about to leave as well when you notice Sana and Isak standing at the window, next to the rocking chair, evidently deep in conversation. Even pats your shoulder on his way out and announces he’s going to get some humus and you decide to follow him.

 

“So, will your daughter be a scientist like you, or an artist like Even?” Sana asks Isak in that moment, making you stop dead in your tracks.

 

Isak scoffs and you hurry to hide behind the half-open door. “Scientist, of course.”

 

Sana giggles and you can see her hand briefly touching Isak’s upper arm. “Do you really care?” she wants to know, sounding curious.

 

“No, as long as she’s happy, I don’t give a crap.” Isak lets out a short chuckle. “Hell, I’ll buy her as many crayons and brushes as she wants.” For a moment, they’re both quiet, and then Isak clears his throat. “What about you?”

 

 _Uh oh._ Isak never does it on purpose, but he has a tendency to step into minefields with the simplest of questions. You and Sana haven’t discussed kids, only marriage, and even that only to the extent of how and where you want to celebrate.

 

“What do you mean?” Sana asks, but you can tell by her tone that she knows exactly what Isak means.

 

But of course, Isak isn’t too shy to elaborate. “If you and Yousef have a daughter one day, will she be a physical therapist or a dancer? A muslim or an atheist?”

 

You expect a ringing silence, or Sana walking away, bumping into you and catching you hanging onto her and Isak’s every word.

 

However, your girlfriend laughs. It’s not one of her fake laughs she gives to mock people who ask stupid questions. It’s a joyful laugh, full of carefree happiness. “Honestly? I don’t care either,” she then says, and you’re positive your ears are about to fall off, because she did NOT just say ...

  
“Really?” Isak sounds only mildly surprised, but you can tell he’s intrigued as well.

 

“Yeah.” Sana’s voice is full of certainty. “I mean, I’d love for my child to share my religion one day. But she- or he- will first and foremost be our child. Yousef and I don’t agree on everything, but we’re all about honesty and communication, so … there isn’t really anything that can go completely wrong.”

 

“That’s a good way to see it,” Isak says and you almost scoff. _Boy I’ll say._

You know that Sana trusts you, but learning just how much she trusts that your different world views will not cause major problems between you, even with a child involved … It makes something click into place. Ever since Sana first told you she loves you, it has been clear to you that you want to marry her one day. But now … you can’t wait any longer.

 

Somehow, you manage to walk back into the living room and sit down in a quiet corner, trying to figure out what to do next. You will have to take extra to a whole new level.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

About an hour later, you and Sana are walking back to the bus stop, hand in hand. Both of you are smiling, but you’re hoping Sana can’t tell that yours is a nervous grin.

 

“Shall we take a walk? It’s not dark yet and we haven’t been to Ekeberg parken in a while,” you suggest as casually as possible.

 

Sana nods slowly, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Sure, that sounds great.”

 

The bus arrives shortly after you reach the stop, and on the way to town, the two of you discuss the lovely evening you’ve had. “I love the name they picked for her,” Sana says, smiling fondly. “Did you know ‘Kitoko’ means ‘beautiful’ in Lingala? That’s a language spoken in the Kongo, where Malin is from.”

 

“Oh wow, the boys did some research,” you laugh, making Sana laugh as well.

 

“They did. I bet Isak has a whole notebook full of names and their meanings somewhere.” She winks at you. “You have that in common, you and Isak. You’re both overthinkers.”

 

“I like to think of myself as considerate, but okay,” you scoff, pretending to be offended. Sana giggles gleefully, patting your lower arm.

 

“You are, Yousef. So considerate,” she says, not even trying to sound serious.

 

You love moments like this with her. Making her laugh has long ago become a hobby of yours, and not just because her laugh is one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. After nearly three years together, the two of you are completely at ease in each other’s presence. You trust Sana with everything, and you know she feels the same way. And that certainty is the reason you asked Sana to go to Ekeberg parken with you for a walk tonight.

 

As soon as you get off the bus, Sana takes off her shoes, making you laugh. “What? I’m not walking up that hill in those,” she says matter-of-factly, and you can’t really argue with that. The hill leading up to the pavilion is steep and Sana’s heels are thin.

 

“Of course, you’re right,” you tell her, taking a deep breath.

 

_Ekeberg parken has always been your favourite place in the city. When you were younger, you always came up here whenever you needed to be alone. You would either find a secluded spot to dance the anger away or just sit and breathe for a while. And about two years ago, when Sana called you to say she wants to quit her job, you brought her up here._

 

_One of her patients had refused to be treated by her because Sana wears a hijab, claiming that she couldn’t be sure Sana wouldn’t just ‘stab her in the back while treating her.’ Sana was so frustrated and angry, so you decided to do the only thing you could think of. You asked Sana to meet you at the tram stop in Grønland and led her up the steep path to one of your favourite spots._

 

_There was almost no one in the park that day, so you told Sana to just … scream it out. And she did. Hesitantly at first, but then she let it all out. She didn’t screech like most girls you know, but her screams were low roars that grew into war cries. A part of you was scared of her, but you were mostly proud of the strong woman you got to call your girlfriend._

_When Sana had screamed her anger out, you walked her down the hill again, to the pavilion close to the restaurant at the edge of the park. There, you and Sana just sat on the mossy ground for a while, breathing the clean air and enjoying each other’s company. And just when you wondered if you should offer to bring Sana home, she reached for your hand and looked into your eyes with the warmest smile you’d ever seen. “I love you, Yousef,” she murmured, and you said it back so fast you made Sana laugh._

 

_And that’s why ever since that day, the pavilion on Ekeberg parken has been your favourite spot in your favourite place._

 

Following Sana up the hill, you’re glad to notice that the sun is still up, bathing the trees in a warm light. _Perfect_ , you think to yourself, and suddenly, your heart is in your throat.

 

You try to keep a straight face, forcing yourself not to grip Sana’s hand more tightly, but it’s no use: It takes Sana less than a minute to notice that you’re nervous.

 

“Is everything okay?” she asks, gently squeezing your fingers, looking into your eyes. Her expression is full of concern, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” you tell her, caressing the back of her hand with your thumb and looking at your shoes. “Should we go to the pavillon? I like the view from there.”

 

“Uh, yeah, I know, we always go there,” Sana says, sounding confused. But before she can ask again what’s going on, you clear your throat and look into Sana’s eyes, smiling as calmly as possible.

 

“Are we happy?” The words come out hesitantly, and when Sana frowns slightly, you hurry to add: “I mean, are you happy with me? Because … I am really happy with you.”

 

Sana blushes and her face lights up with her most beautiful smile. “I am. I am really happy with you too,” she says, sounding certain yet still a bit confused. “Why do you ask?”

 

By now, the pavillon is in sight, and you point towards it, clearing your throat. “Come with me.”

 

Shaking her head, Sana giggles, but she follows you readily. You let go of her hand and pretend that you have to tie your shoe. “Go ahead, I’ll be right there,” you say, and luckily, Sana doesn’t ask questions this time.

 

You look around and luckily find a patch of grass with some daisies on it. You pluck out the one with the longest stem and then get to your feet again, following Sana to the pavilion on wobbly knees.

 

Sana is standing on the right side of the pavilion, looking up into the trees. You decide to take advantage of that and not waste any more time. Quickly tying the daisy’s stem into a ring, you reach for Sana’s left hand and get down on one knee.

 

She drops her shoes and turns around. And when you see the surprise on her face, your nervousness goes up in smoke. “Sana, I have a question to ask you,” you say confidently as Sana covers her mouth with her free hand. “I’ve had the great pleasure of being your boyfriend for almost three years, and every day with you is more amazing than the last. So today, in the spot where you first told me you love me, I want to ask if you want to keep doing this for the rest of your life.”

 

Taking a deep breath, you kiss Sana’s knuckles before looking up at her again, holding up the daisy ring. “Sana Bakkoush, will you marry me?”

 

You’ve barely gotten out the last word when Sana nods frantically and spreads her fingers so you can slide the improvised ring on her finger. “Yes, yes, I will!”

 

“Phew, that’s good,” you tell her, smiling happily at her. Sana lets out a half-laugh, half-sob and then throws her arms around your shoulders. “I’ll get you a real ring, I promise,” you murmur quietly, but you can feel Sana shaking her head.

 

“I don’t freaking care, Yousef.” She looks up and stretches out her left arm, staring at your improvised engagement ring. “It’s perfect.”

 

Pulling her close again, you bury your face at Sana’s neck and wrap your arms around her waist. Closing your eyes, you can hardly resist the urge to pinch yourself.

 

_Sana Bakkoush just agreed to marry you, you lucky bastard._

 

“I love you, Sana,” you whisper in your future wife’s ear, and you could swear you feel her shiver in your arms at the words.

 

“I love you too,” she breathes back, her warm breath tickling your ear. “So much.”

 

For a moment, you just stand there, holding each other, breathing together. You can’t resist pressing small kisses to Sana’s hijab every few moments, revelling in the way her fingers tighten at your sides every time.

 

“So, do you think we’ll have a Turkish or a Moroccan wedding?” you ask after a while, making Sana giggle. She moves her head back to look into your eyes.

 

“I don’t care, as long as there’s Mussaka and Halwa, and we don’t have to pose for photos for too long,” she says, rolling her eyes.

 

If anything could have convinced you even more that asking Sana to marry you was the best idea you ever had, it’s the fact that she cares more about food and comfort than any kind of appearances for your wedding.

 

Smiling like an idiot, you nod and gently nudge her nose with your own. “That sounds like a plan.”

 


	8. Chapter Seven: The day of days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yousef and Sana get married.

**Saturday May 11th 2030**

 

**_Sana_ **

 

You still can’t believe it, but somehow, you and Yousef managed to stop your families from turning your wedding into an embarrassing circus. It was Yousef’s idea to ask both your mothers to oversee the catering. Mamma and Elif are both excellent cooks, and they’ve always gotten along well. So you’re not surprised to hear from everyone that the food is nothing short of spectacular. Luckily, you rented an entire gymnasium, so it wasn’t a problem to fit in the huge buffet Elif and Mamma put together.

 

Looking around, you can’t deny that your father and Arslan did a good job setting up the place. The floor is covered in red carpets, perfectly concealing the fact that your ‘banquet hall’ is actually a gymnasium. Yousef’s father works in construction, so he was able to procure lots of wires. The two of them spent weeks figuring out how they could use the wires and miles of red and orange fabric to turn the gymnasium into a giant tent. And with the help of some of your cousins, they pulled it off. If you didn’t know better, you’d never guess what this room looked like when you and Yousef decided to hold your wedding fiest here.

 

Your dad and Arslan even went on a trip to Turkey together to buy lamps, pillows, colorful rolls of fabric and tablecloths in the great bazaar in Istanbul. Arslan knows his way around there- he would never admit it, but he has a knack for decorating rooms. “Pappa would open the Turkish version of Ikea if he had the money,” Yousef likes to joke, and you’re sure he’s right.

 

Coming back to your table, you find Isak sitting on the chair next to yours, marvelling at the plate he apparently just filled up at the buffet.

 

“I can’t decide what I like best,” he says, pointing to his plate, making a face. And not for the first time today you think that he looks very handsome in his dark green suit and black dress shirt. “Everything is so delicious, as always,” he adds, his fingers circling above the food like a bird of prey.

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you tell him, taking a chocolate-covered date from your own plate and putting it in your mouth. “Mamma and Elif really should open a restaurant together.”

 

Isak nods and picks up a spicy potato with his fork. “Ah, I remember this! Even makes those too.” His voice is full of fondness, and as if on cue, Even appears at the table, holding Malin in his arms.

 

They both look stunning: Even may as well have stepped out of a James Bond movie in his royal blue suit and black dress shirt. And little Malin is wearing a green and blue tutu dress, looking like a princess. Even’s hair is styled in a quiff, and you can’t help but admire him for staying true to his style ever since he was a teenager. But as proud as Even is of his own hair, he’s even prouder of his daughter’s. He tied several blue and green bows into it, and you can tell his lessons with Jamilla have paid off. You can’t help but smile happily at the memory of how your best friend at the mosque became Even’s teacher.

 

 _Shortly after Even and Isak took Malin home, Even asked for your help. “I need to learn how to style my baby’s hair without hurting her or making her look silly,” he said, looking so genuinely worried you almost felt compelled to hug him._ _“Can you ask Jamilla if she will teach me?” he asked, blushing slightly, but you were already nodding._

 _Jamilla is one of the few black girls at your mosque, and you’ve been friends ever since you met. And of course, she was delighted to help Even find the right combs and_ _show him how to style Malin’s hair. Even insisted on inviting her to dinner every time she came over. And although it didn’t take Even more than five sessions to learn all of Jamilla’s tricks to tame his daughter’s hair, he and Isak kept inviting her._

 

_One evening, both you and Jamilla were walking back home together from Isak and Even’s place, and Jamilla couldn’t stop gushing about Isak and Even and their beautiful child. “Malin is so lucky with her fathers. They’re both so dedicated. Did you know Isak wants to take her up to Tromsø to see the northern lights because she pointed to a picture of one in Even’s magazine yesterday?”_

 

_Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “He claims he already knows she’ll be a scientist because of that, yes.” But of course, you couldn’t help but smile as you said that._

 

_Jamilla laughed happily. “And Even is really good at styling Malin’s hair by now. He doesn’t know it, but he has a talent.”_

 

_You didn’t need another reason to love Isak and Even. But the way Jamilla became friends with them was like something out of a cheesy movie, and as much as you hated those, you absolutely loved that story._

 

“Ooh, look what Pappa has got there, so much good food,” Even says, pulling you out of your trip down memory lane. He’s pointing to Isak’s plate, but Malin doesn’t seem to care about the food. She coos happily and reaches for Isak, looking at him with big eyes.

 

“Pappa,” she giggles as Even hands her to his husband.

 

“You found her,” Isak chuckles and kisses Malin’s forehead before setting her down on his lap.

 

Even grins, picking up his fork and picking a spicy potato from Isak’s plate, nodding slowly. “She was crawling under the table over there,” he says, pointing across the room with his chin as he sits down next to Isak. “I found her because she scared the shit out of Vilde when she tried to pull down her skirt.”

 

Isak laughs and kisses Malin’s cheek. “That’s my girl.”

 

You pat Even’s arm as he puts the potato in his mouth, making him turn to look at you. “You should be careful. Malin is becoming a prankster,” you tell him, making both men laugh.

 

“She already is, Sana,” Isak giggles, as Malin grabs both of his index fingers and waves his hands up and down. “Just last week, she stole Even’s favourite hoodie and hid it in our bed. It took us days to find it.”

 

Even chuckles and reaches over to cup Malin’s face with one hand. “She’s amazing,” he says and the awestruck tone of his voice almost makes you shiver. If you didn’t know it, you’d have a hard time believing that Malin is already one year old. Both her fathers still look at her as if they can’t believe she’s there.

 

“Well, that confirms it,” you say with a giggle. “She’s definitely your kid.” Getting to your feet, you put one hand on Isak’s and the other on Even’s shoulder. “I am going to get some dessert and see if I can find Yousef,” you announce, and Even raises his eyebrows at you with a knowing grin.

 

“He just went to the bathroom, Sana, as you well know,” he murmurs but you just put a finger to your lips and wink at him. Even is a bit too perceptive for your taste sometimes.

 

You pass the table where your best friends are sitting, waving at everyone and when Eva points to the chair next to her, you can’t just walk past.

 

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Acar?” Eva asks when you sit down, making you giggle. While it was hard to believe for the first few hours after you got legally married to Yousef, by now you are very aware that you are husband and wife. Which is why you have to suppress a groan when you lean in to whisper into Eva’s ear.

 

“I have to find Mr. Acar, like, right now, if you know what I mean.” Eva raises her eyebrows at you and then bites her lip.

 

“Got it,” she whispers back then, squeezing your shoulder. “I think he went outside actually, Jonas saw him on his way back from the bathroom.”

 

Hearing his name, Jonas looks up with a grin. “Yousef is in the backyard,” he confirms, winking at you and sliding an arm around Noora. And although you have clever retort on your tongue, you can’t help but marvel at your gorgeous friends. Noora is wearing a royal blue dress with gold and silver sequins, and Jonas’ cream coloured suit perfectly compliments his girlfriend’s dress. _Fiancée_ you correct yourself, remembering the evening a few weeks ago when Noora called you late at night to tell you she’d finally gotten up the courage to ask Jonas to marry her. “He cried, Sana. He cried and said ‘A thousand times, yes, Noora.’ I’m getting married to a man who isn’t afraid to cry, how lucky am I?” You can’t help but agree with Noora: Jonas is a pretty awesome man, and you couldn’t be happier that he gets to marry one of the best women you know.

 

Eva’s purple pantsuit makes her look like a movie star, and you can’t help but congratulate yourself for bringing the emerald green skirt and blouse Vilde is wearing from yours and Yousef’s holiday in London last year. It suits her perfectly and you can tell she loves it as much as you did when you saw it on the market in Camden. She told you earlier that the first time she wore it was the day Eva proposed to her. “Your dress is my happily-ever-after dress now,” she giggled, making your heart jump in your chest.

 

Chris and Mutta bought their own clothes in Tunisia when visiting Mutta’s family last month: Chris is wearing a dark blue kaftan with white stitchings, and for once, she’s wearing her hair down. You make a mental note to tell her she should do that more often, because her dark brown curls look absolutely gorgeous. Mutta’s kaftan is light blue, decorated with black stitchings at the hems and collar, and you think he looks a lot more elegant than usual.

And finally, Mahdi and Sonja have decided to go for the ‘Hollywood look’: Mahdi is wearing a classic black suit and white shirt, complete with a black tie and shiny shoes. And Sonja’s gorgeous red cocktail dress hugs her figure just right, making her look like a Bond girl.

 

You’d never have guessed that those two would so much as get to know each other. But as always when something crazy happens around you, your brother had something to do with it. Elias found out that Mahdi isn’t half bad at singing when Eva told him she sometimes hears him singing under the shower in the changing rooms at the dance school they both teach at. So he jokingly asked if he would like to do a duet with Sonja. By now, Sonja has become rather popular in Norway, and she is always up for collaborations with other artists.

 

Mahdi took Elias by his word, but instead of singing together, Sonja and Mahdi went out drinking and ended up in Sonja’s bed. That was a month ago, and according to Elias, they’re not really dating. But you can tell they’re very comfortable around each other, which can’t be a bad thing.

 

“Thank you,” you finally say to Jonas, bowing your head and getting to your feet. “And you all look gorgeous, by the way,” you say to the entire table, making everyone chuckle.

 

“Says my sister, who looks like a queen,” Elias says, approaching the table from behind you. You turn to roll your eyes at him, but when you see his adoring smile, you can’t help but smile back, feeling yourself blush a little.

 

You’re wearing your second outfit for today: A simple white wedding dress, long-sleeved and decorated with lots of pearls in the Morrocan style. Even your hijab is covered in pearls and has a diadem stitched to the front. The veil of the dress is see-through, decorated in the same style as the dress, and you do feel like a queen with it.

 

Elias kisses your forehead, making the entire table sigh happily and you blush even harder. “Thanks, brother,” you say, briefly squeezing his upper arms with both hands. “You look good too.”

  
He really does. The black kaftan with silver decorations makes him look much more serious than he is, but you like it. “Where are Adam and Mikael?” Elias then asks, looking around at the group.

 

Everyone shrugs, but then Magnus comes up behind Elias, giggling happily. He,too cleans up very nicely in his olive green suit and grey shirt. “I saw them disappearing into a room somewhere five minutes ago,” he says, apparently trying hard not to laugh. You wink at him and suddenly remember that you really want to find a room too …

 

“I will see you guys later, I think it’s time for me to ... change again,” you say, trying to put on your best poker face.

 

But of course, your friends know you too well. Even when you’re already out in the hallway, you can still hear their whistles, but you don’t care.

 

Just as Jonas said, you find Yousef in the backyard, leaning against the soccer goal. You don’t care how gorgeous people say you look today, you still think the best looking person is your new husband. He’s wearing a white kaftan, decorated with black stitchings on the collar and the hems of his sleeves. The two of you picked three outfits each for today: One for the ceremony at the mosque, one for the feast and one for the party after dinner. And although you loved Yousef’s blue kaftan that he wore at the mosque, he looks even more handsome in this one.

 

“Hey,” you call out, making Yousef whirl around, smiling happily when he sees you.

 

“Sorry, I just needed some air,” he apologises but you shake your head, walking over to him and roping your arms around his waist.

 

“I just missed my husband,” you murmur quietly, making Yousef blush. He pulls you closer, leaning his forehead against yours.

 

“You’re my wife now,” he breathes, the awe in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Mhm,” you say softly, looking deep into Yousef’s eyes. “I think we should change into our party outfits.” You take a deep breath and purse your lips before going on. “Do you want to join me?”

 

Somehow, you expected Yousef to react shyly. But instead, your husband nods and takes your hand, leading you back inside. “Where are our outfits?” he asks, the confused look on his face making you laugh. “I swear this building is a freaking maze.”

 

“This way,” you tell him and pull him with you down the hall to the teacher’s office. A part of you worries that this is the room Magnus saw Adam and Mikael disappear into but then Yousef has already opened the door.

 

Luckily, no one is inside. Your bright red farasha and Yousef’s matching suit are ready for you on coat hangers at the windows, but you don’t care about that right now.

 

Letting out a long breath, you push Yousef against the cupboard next to the door, making him gasp with surprise.

 

“Finally,” you growl hungrily, making Yousef chuckle. He wraps his arms your waist, sighing happily.

 

“You wanted help changing dresses,” he says softly, and you want to kill him. Of course he is using this chance to tease you …

 

But before you can protest, Yousef brings his hands up to cup the back of your head, a concentrated look on his face. For a moment you think he’s working up the courage to kiss you, but then you feel his fingers wandering across your hijab. He’s looking for pins. “May I?” he asks, looking into your eyes with a hesitant expression.

 

“Yes,” you say softly, and suddenly you can’t wait for your hijab to come off. You want Yousef to see you.

 

Your husband giggles nervously as he pulls out the first pin. You want to try and help him, but he tsk’s and shakes his head. “I have to learn how these things work, we’re married now,” he explains, making both of you laugh.

 

“You have picked a very complicated wrap to start with,” you tell him, but Yousef is determined. And after another minute, he has found the rest of the pins, putting them down in the empty soap dish at the sink. Your hijab is beginning to slide off, and you have to fight the reflex to hold on to it.

 

Yousef gently turns you around to make sure he removed all the pins, holding your hijab in place with one hand. Then, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes, wordlessly asking for your approval once again. You nod at him, smiling nervously, and then Yousef pulls the hijab off your head.

 

Your hair is tied into a tight bun and you think it must look quite squashed, but judging from the look on Yousef’s face, he doesn’t care. “Sana, you are so beautiful,” he says shakily, and you could swear there are tears in his eyes. “Your hair is gorgeous,too” he adds with a wink, carefully folding your hijab and putting it down on a chair nearby.

 

“Thank you,” you giggle, and then Yousef pulls you into his arms. You hug him back, breathing him in and when you feel his warm breath in your now exposed neck, you can’t hold back any longer.

 

Pulling him even closer, you turn your head and press a soft kiss to Yousef’s throat. He shivers slightly, roping his arms even tighter around your waist, and then he moves back to look into your eyes again.

 

“I love you,” he breathes, and that’s it. You’re done waiting. Leaning forward, you close your eyes and press your lips to Yousef’s, making him suck in a breath. But then you feel him relax and he starts kissing you back. One of his arms stays wrapped around your waist while he cups the back of your head with the other. You sigh against his lips as he kisses you again, more urgently this time. Running your hands up along Yousef’s back, you press your lips to his again and again, as if trying to quench a thirst. Somehow you only dimly remember how afraid you were that Yousef wouldn’t like kissing you, that you would suck at it.

 

But when Yousef finally moves his head back to look at you, the awestruck expression on his face removes the last bit of doubt from your mind. “I can’t believe we have to go back out there,” he whispers and you let out a groan, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Not yet,” you breathe against his mouth, kissing your husband’s beautiful smile. “We can have a few more minutes.”

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

By the time you and Yousef rejoin the party, the gymnasium has been transformed into a disco. The tables are lined up at the wall and the chairs have been moved away to make room for a dance floor. Adam and Mikael are acting as DJ’s, looking as if they’re attached at the hip. After more than three years of dating, you’d think they’d left the honeymoon phase behind, but no. Those two are as much in love as they were when Adam first introduced Mikael as his official boyfriend at one of his concerts.

 

You have just danced with Yousef during the past three songs and are about to suggest you get something to drink when Even appears out of nowhere and pushes Malin into your arms. “Can you hold my princess for a second, Sana? I have to ask someone to dance,” he says into your ear and rushes past you without waiting for a reply.

 

“Well hello,” you say to the giggling little girl in your arms. Malin’s little hands pat your shoulders as she marvels at your hijab and the sparkling sequins on it.

 

“She likes your outfit,” Yousef remarks and you wink at him with a shrug.

 

“Obviously.” You press a kiss to Malin’s forehead, making her coo softly. “She has taste, this one.”

 

Yousef nods slowly and puts an arm around your waist, tapping Malin’s nose with his finger. “She really does.” You exchange a happy look with your husband before looking for Malin’s fathers.

 

And sure enough, there they are. Isak is obviously trying to protest, but Even doesn’t take no for an answer and pulls his husband onto the dance floor with him. Lucky for Isak, Adam and Mikael have just put on a slow song, so all Isak really has to do is hold on to Even while he sways them around.

 

You spot Vilde and Eva, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, noses touching, swaying in time with the music. They’re completely oblivious of their surroundings, and it’s adorable to watch.

 

At the buffet, you see your parents, locked in deep conversation with Elif and Arslan. They’re all laughing every few moments and eating dessert while very obviously enjoying the company they’re in.

 

Mutta and Chris are sitting on the floor opposite the buffet, leaning against the wall and apparently laughing at a joke Elias just made. He’s laughing too, pointing towards the dance floor, where you see Eskild dancing with Linn, his roommate. The two of them have a very particular way of dancing together: although the song is a slow one, they are jumping up and down in strange moves, laughing hard whenever one of them makes a particularly funny move, obviously having the time of their lives.

 

Jonas and Noora are standing closer to you and Yousef, talking to Jamilla and a few other people you know from the Mosque. You remember Jamilla asking about Jonas’s and Noora’s work with refugees a while back and judging by the excited looks on their faces, the three of them are already making plans to work together.

 

“Everyone seems so happy,” you say thoughtfully, running a hand through Malin’s hair.

 

Yousef chuckles and moves behind you to pull you against his chest. “It’s our wedding, of course everyone’s happy,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your hijab.

 

Nodding slowly, you almost laugh at the sight of Isak and Even, who have stopped dancing and are just making out in the middle of the dance floor. Smiling fondly at them, you suddenly wish you didn’t have to stay here for another few hours. Sure, the party is fun, but a big part of you wants to finish what you and Yousef started in that teacher’s office.

 

“How long do we have to stay?” Yousef asks in that moment, as if he were reading your mind.

 

“It’s our party,” you say thoughtfully, leaning your head on his shoulder. Malin is starting to fall asleep in your arms, so Yousef pulls you with him to two chairs in the corner of the gymnasium. You sit down and carefully turn Malin in your arms so her head is resting on your shoulder.

 

A few minutes later, Even and Isak find you there, apologising for leaving their kid with you for so long at your own wedding. Both you and Yousef shake your heads, stating that looking after Malin is always a pleasure.

 

“Don’t you guys want to get out of here by now though?” Isak asks with a knowing smirk in your direction.

 

“Yeah, we were wondering how long we have to stay,” Yousef admits and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him or kiss him.

 

Even carefully picks Malin from your shoulder, cradling her in his arms. “We won’t tell anyone if you slip out,” he says, winking at you.

 

Pursing your lips, you pat Even’s shoulder, winking back. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as Yousef, making all four of you laugh.

 

“I mean, you have an awesome, newly furnished apartment to check out so …” Isak says, grinning brightly and pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Have fun, Sanasol,” he murmurs into your ear, making you giggle.

 

“Shut up,” you breathe back, winking at your former biology partner turned best bud.

 

And that’s how you and Yousef sneak out of your own wedding party shortly before midnight without anyone even noticing. You’d never admit it, but although you feel a little bad for leaving everyone behind, the moment you run out of the gymnasium hand in hand, giggling like little children is your favourite part of the entire day.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

**_Yousef_ **

 

Seemingly hours of tram rides later, you and Sana finally arrive at your new place. You’ve been here before of course, but the last time you saw the apartment, it was just a few empty rooms. After making them swear they wouldn’t add anything ‘embarrassing’ and to not make ‘our house look like a freaking candy store’, Sana actually agreed to let Vilde, Eva, Noora and Eskild decorate your home. They even offered to move all your belongings here during the last week before your wedding. That’s why you slept in Isak and Even’s guest room and Sana in her old room at her parent’s house for the last few nights.

 

“Ready?” Sana asks, turning around with the key in her hands.

 

You nod slowly and smile at her. “I think so.”

Giggling happily, Sana puts the key in the look and then pauses for a moment, closing her eyes. You smile to yourself, knowing that she is saying a small prayer before the two of you enter your new home for the first time as a married couple. You're still fascinated and proud that Sana is so comfortable praying in your presence. Somehow, it feels like she's unintentionally proving how much she trusts you every time she does it.

 

After a long moment, Sana opens her eyes again, and turns the key in the lock. Stepping into the hallway after her, you instantly know it was a good idea to leave the decorating to Sana’s friends. The happy gasp from your wife lets you know she agrees. The hallway is decorated rather simply: A dark blue carpet on the floor, a wrought-iron hatrack at the wall and a matching shoe rack underneath. There’s a picture of the two of you holding hands and laughing hanging at the wall opposite the front door right above a silver key box. Several pictures of your friends are lining the hallway walls, making you feel at home right away.

 

You both take off your shoes and when Sana sighs with relief and stretches her toes, you can’t help but chuckle. “Why do you wear these things if they hurt you?” you ask, pointing to the bright red pumps in Sana’s hands.

 

“They’re gorgeous, and they make me taller, okay?” she retorts, placing her shoes on the rack with a wink at you.

“Alright.” Grinning back at her, you nod slowly and place your shiny black shoes next to her pumps. Several other pairs of shoes are already stacked in there, and you bite back a remark about how the girls probably had to buy an entire closet for Sana’s shoe collection.

 

For a moment you consider asking Sana if you should take a tour around the apartment. But before you can open your mouth, Sana pushes you against the wall for the second time today.

 

“Finally,” she sighs and then her lips are on yours. Closing your eyes, you lock your arms around Sana’s waist and pull her closer.

 

Earlier today when Sana kissed you, you were nervous. You didn’t want her to feel pressured to do something she wasn’t ready for. But now, neither you nor Sana are hesitant or shy anymore.

 

“I have wanted to do this all day,” you murmur against your wife’s lips, cupping her face with both hands before kissing her again.

 

“Likewise,” Sana whispers and then reaches for both your hands, pulling you with her towards the bedroom. You flip the light switch next to the door, and then you both take a moment to look around. You recognise the bed you picked out together, and it looks very inviting. The bedframe is made of black wood and the mattress is thick and comfortable. The duvet and pillows are covered in gorgeous blue satin sheets, and you smile at the sight of a heart made of white rose petals on the middle of the bed.

 

“Cute,” you say quietly, sitting down on the mattress with a comfortable sigh. Sana giggles and steps in between your legs, cupping your face between her hands.

 

 

“Not as cute as you,” she whispers and claims your lips with hers. She’s slightly taller than you like this, making it easy for her to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around her again, kissing her back. Sana smiles against your lips and then tilts your head back a little to deepen the kiss.

Letting out a soft moan, you run your hands up along her back to rest them on her shoulder blades. Sana sighs comfortably and melts into your embrace.

 

You could sit here forever, holding Sana and letting her kiss you into oblivion. She admitted to you a while ago that she was terrified she would be bad at it, since she’s never kissed anyone. But from the second her lips touched yours earlier this evening, you knew that she is a natural.

“We should just .. sleep tonight, yes?” you ask after a while, leaning your forehead against Sana’s. She frowns slightly, making you worry that she thinks you’re rejecting her. “I mean … I would love to … mess around, but …”

 

“It’s okay, I’m tired too,” Sana says with a soft laugh and gently disengages herself to sit down on the bed next to you. “Want to help me with this again? You’re good at it,” she says with a laugh, pointing to her hijab.

 

“Sure,” you giggle shortly and start removing the pins of Sana’s hijab. This time, it doesn’t take you long, and when you take out the last pin, Sana moves to undo her hair bun. Shaking your head, you gently close your fingers around her wrists, removing Sana’s hands from her hair. “Let me,” you whisper, looking into her eyes.

 

Sana nods and puts her hands in her lap, smiling warmly at you. “Okay.”

 

You move closer to her until Sana’s sitting between your legs and start carefully pulling out the hairpins from her hair. “How long does it take you to do your hair and put on your hijab every morning?” you ask after a while.

 

Sana shrugs and thinks for a moment. “Not longer than ten minutes. It’s all about routine,” she says, sounding proud of herself.

 

“I bet,” you chuckle, gently turning Sana’s head left and right to check if you missed any pins. And then there’s only the hairband left. “Okay, I hope I won’t pull any hairs out.”

 

“That’s okay, I pull my own hair out all the time,” Sana laughs, but you can tell she’s nervous too.

 

“Good to know.” You breathe a sigh of relief and then carefully untie the hairband holding Sana’s bun together. It’s easier than you think, and when your wife’s hair is finally free, you can’t hold back a gasp. “Wow.” Sana’s hair almost reaches her elbows in soft, shiny curls. You always found her beautiful, but right now, with her long black hair framing her face, you know that the wait was worth it.

 

It never felt like you were missing out on anything, not being allowed to kiss Sana or see her hair. You knew from the moment you asked Sana out for a date that her religion was very important to her. So for you, waiting was always a part of the deal. But you still feel proud and happy that you finally get to see Sana in her full and breathtaking beauty.

 

“You like it?” Sana asks, turning around to face you. The soft smile on her lips is too tempting, and it still blows your mind that you don’t have to stop yourself from kissing her anymore.

 

You do just that, cupping her face with one hand and reaching across her shoulder with the other to run your fingers through her hair. “Your hair is almost as gorgeous as you,” you whisper against her lips. Sana giggles happily and crawls into your lap, resting her legs on your right side.

 

“Flatterer,” she murmurs, sliding an arm around your shoulder and bumping your nose with hers. You capture her lips with your own, closing your eyes and pulling her closer.

 

“I’m just telling the truth,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against hers without opening your eyes.

 

Sana laughs softly and kisses you again. “I know.”

 

After a long while, the two of you finally get ready for bed. You discuss the matter that you should probably be tearing each other’s clothes off in a frenzy to get each other naked, but neither of you wants to do anything else than cuddle and go to sleep.

 

“We could always lie if anyone asks,” you suggest, crawling under the sheets wearing only boxer shorts and a t-shirts.

 

“Or we could kill anyone who asks,” Sana retorts, making you laugh. She joins you under the sheets a moment later, wearing a wide t-shirt with the words “Keep ya head up” printed on it in white letters and a pair of grey shorts.

 

“Tupac, right?” you ask, pointing to your wife’s shirt. Sana smiles happily and nods, looking impressed.

 

“Yes, that’s right.” She holds out her fist and you bump it with your own. “My husband knows his shit.”

 

You shuffle closer to her under the blanket, wrapping your arm around Sana’s waist. “And my wife is a badass,” you whisper and press your lips to hers again.

 

The two of you exchange lazy kisses and whispered words for a while, until both of you are struggling to keep your eyes open. You turn around to switch of the light and then wrap both arms around Sana as she burrows her head at your chest.

 

“Good night, Mrs. Acar,” you whisper into her hair, closing your eyes and feeling her heart beating close to yours.

 

“Good night, husband,” she whispers back and with a happy smile on your lips, you drift off to sleep only moments later.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

The next morning, you wake up before Sana. She’s curled into herself, her hair lying around her head in a beautiful, black mess. You fight the urge to kiss your wife’s cheek and carefully slip out of bed.

 

Walking into the living room, you see that Sana’s friends really did a great job decorating your home. You’re very glad that you and Sana have a similar taste in furniture: You picked simple furniture in calm colours, like a comfortable, dark blue couch and a sturdy table made of cherry tree wood with matching chairs. So although you’ve only just moved in here, you’re confident it will feel like home in no time. You like that Sana’s friends hung some pictures of you, Sana and of course both your families and friends, making the room seem like your and Sana’s own personal gallery of love and friendship.

 

You move on to the kitchen then, and just like Eskild had promised, the fridge and the pantry are well stocked. It takes you only a few minutes to decide what to make for breakfast.

 

Soon, you’ve prepared a nice spread with orange juice, coffee, bread and scrambled eggs. You go back to the bedroom, where Sana is waking up. She’s stretching her arms and legs and when she sees you, a bright smile curls her lips. “Morning,” she murmurs as you lean over her to press a kiss to her lips.

 

“Morning. Are you hungry?”

 

Sana nods slowly and then sniffs the air. “Did you make coffee?”

 

“Yes, I did.” You chuckle quietly and pull Sana into your arms to kiss her again. “Come on.”

 

Sana laughs happily when she sees the set table. “Wow, can I expect this every Sunday now?” She winks at you and then turns around to look at your living room. “It looks good in here.”

 

“I like it too,” you agree, sitting down at the table. “And yes, you can expect this every Sunday.”

 

“Aaawh,” Sana coos and then sits down across from you, admiring the spread you prepared. “I love your cooking, so I already know this is good!”

 

You feel yourself blush at that. “Thank you.”

 

Some time during breakfast, you remember that you were worried about things being awkward between you and Sana after moving in together. But now you wonder why you ever thought it would be different than when you spent time together before. The banter between you is as cheeky and funny as usual. The only difference is that Sana isn’t wearing her hijab now. She’s sitting across from you wearing only her grey shorts and the Tupac t-shirt, a fact that is still blowing your mind.

 

After breakfast, Sana insists on clearing the table, telling you to just ‘shut up and sit down’ on the couch.

 

You do just that, picking up your phone for the first time since yesterday morning. Scrolling past a ton of instagram tags of your friends who took photos at the wedding, you open a whatsapp message from Elias first.

 

**_Elias_ **

 

_“Hey man, I hope you’re enjoying your_

_wedding night- NO DETAILS, PLEASE._

_I figured you’d want to see this.”_

 

Grinning to yourself, you open the link he sent you. It’s an article of the ‘Aftenposten’, and the headline makes you frown.

 

**_“Young dancers accuse former manager of mismanagement_ **

_Two members of the former dance group ‘Veritas’ are suing their former manager of mismanagement. They claim that Boris Kimmich forced the group members to perform when they were sick or injured on several occasions, and that he quit their contracts when they refused to continue their tour when one of them was injured._

_“Yousef injured his knee and all Boris cared about was that he would dance again two days later,” says Unnar Petersen, the oldest member of the group. “And we heard that he did that to several other artists he was managing as well, so we decided to do something.”_

 

_Petersen and his former colleague Edwin Molde are asking other clients of Boris Kimmich to come forward, and so far, several Norwegian dancers and singers have followed their call. So far they have no case yet, but it appears that it is finally confirmed, that ‘Veritas’ didn’t split up without reason._

 

Letting out a long breath, you put down your phone. You’ve put what happened with Boris behind you a long time ago. But you still feel good about the fact that Unnar and Edwin are fighting him.

 

You’ve heard of them a few times since the group split up, so you know that both of them found new jobs: Unnar is a teacher’s assistant at his old university and Edwin is working as a background dancer for several Norwegian rappers. Reading that article makes you want to catch up with them though.

 

“Are you alright?” Sana’s voice rips you from your thoughts. She sits down next to you and you point to your phone.

 

“Your brother sent me an article. Apparently, Unnar and Edwin are sueing our former manager.” You wrap an arm around your wife as she leans her head on your shoulder and tell her everything.

 

When you’re done, Sana kisses your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile. “I think it’s good. Try and reach out to them. Assholes like Boris have to be stopped.”

 

“Thank you, babe,” you murmur quietly and then pull her closer to kiss her lips.

 

Sana sighs softly and cups your neck with one hand, kissing you back. “Any time,” she breathes against your lips, and then she gets to her feet, taking your hand in hers. She doesn’t say a word, but the look in her eyes tells you that Sana is done talking for a while.

 

Pulling you up, she giggles happily as you rope your arms around her waist and kiss her again, deeper this time. Sana parts your lips with her tongue, making you gasp, and suddenly, you’re wide awake.

 

“Come on,” Sana whispers after a while, and the tone of her voice almost makes your knees buckle. “I’ve waited long enough.”

 

You can’t speak, but if you could, you’d tell Sana that this- having her to yourself, in your own apartment, looking at you like she can’t wait to take your clothes off- was worth everything you went through and more.

 

Following your wife back to the bedroom, both of you giggling like teenagers and unable to take your hands off each other, you think that no matter what life has in store for you next: With Sana by your side, you’re ready to face anything.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please go and give my artist Ivana some love under her posts of her drawings:
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Bfnq5ZgBvlc/?hl=en&taken-by=serkiart
> 
> https://ivnana.tumblr.com/post/171280201811/my-part-of-the-big-bang-julieseven-it-was-a


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